


Blowing Away the Smoke

by DrakkHammer



Series: One Heart Beating for Two [2]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Anal Sex, Britchell, Can I just walk away?, Can't this snowmobile go any faster?, Developing Relationship, Frottage, Gentle Sex, Hold me forever, Hot Sex, How do I say goodbye?, I can't believe I'm doing this, I think I'm falling love - I CAN'T be falling in love!, Is this a relationship?, Loving Sex, M/M, More Sex, Oral Sex, YOU ARE A WHAT??, what the fuck have I done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 46,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakkHammer/pseuds/DrakkHammer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Summary because the story has evolved - actually it has grown wings and has taken off </p><p>Anders can no longer pretend that he is the womanizer, the user, he has always been. A tall skinny Irishman has found the cracks in his armor and he, in turn, has found that Mitchell is not what he appears...and terrifying as that is...it just might be all right--because love will find a way. Love always finds a way…</p><p>If you aren't starting here <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1034616"><strong>Smoke and Mirrors</strong></a>  you are missing the first part of this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Oslo was freaking cold. The term “witch’s tit” came to mind although Anders had no clue what the hell that meant. He was from Auckland where it never got this fucking cold and he wanted to get back there as soon as possible. Well, with a stop in London that is. Quite a long stop in London, actually. Maybe. No, he did want to stop. Once he was done here… Irritated with his inner dialog, he pulled his jacket up around his ears and shivered. Fuck this whole looking for a mythical tree shit. And fuck good old mum too while he was at it. How had he ever let her talk him into going on this quest?

Oh yeah…money…lots of money.

He admitted that he liked money…a lot. He liked what you could buy with money. He liked the security that came with having money. Money made him feel safe. He winced at that thought as it pinged against a door in his mind he’d locked up years ago. For just a moment he remembered a scared little boy huddling in his closet so he didn’t have to hear the fighting, sucking his thumb and trying not to feel the pinch of an empty stomach. 

“Fuck that,” he said out loud, causing the woman next to him to do a double-take. Instead of heading down to get his luggage he went into one of the bars that dotted the concourse. He slid onto a stool and motioned the bartender to pour him a double of anything. 

“Surprise me,” he’d snapped. 

The pale amber liquid was strong and had a decidedly sweet taste with an under-tone of something herbal. Weird, but not unpleasant. By the time he’d finished the glass and held it out for a refill he was feeling decidedly more mellow.

“What is this stuff?” 

“Akvavit,” came the neutral reply.

“Then I guess I will have a ‘vit’ more.” He smiled showing dimples and the bartender smiled back. There was nothing like Norway’s signature drink to lighten someone’s mood. 

Uncharacteristically, he tipped the barkeep more than he would normally have, telling himself it was to make up for sounding like a jerk tourist. He wasn’t a tourist he was here on business and he needed to keep in good with the locals, you never knew when one of them might have the information that he needed. He collected his luggage and went to the hotel. It was nice; typically Scandinavian with an open bright feel and a lot of blond furniture that looked as it it came from an upscale Ikea. He threw his suitcase on his bed, unzipped it and started to unpack.

Anders was completely unprepared for the wave of loneliness that washed over him leaving him gasping in its wake. 

He looked around, almost as if he expected to see Mitchell there lounging against the doorway as he had so many times in the past few days. He drew a long breath and let it out slowly. This wasn’t happening. Anders Johnson didn’t miss people. Everyone was transitory in his life. His only constants were his annoying brothers…and Dawn. He definitely had to count Dawn, but nobody else. He didn’t want anybody else. Hell, he didn’t even want the ones he had most of the time…except for Dawn.

He pulled his underwear out and started to sort it so he could arrange it in the drawer. 

Black.

Mitchell wore black boxer-briefs never meant to be sexy. Not the choice of cover boys, or fashion models, but the perfect choice for the tall lanky brunette. They went with the black jeans and white shirt and the golden skin and the tangle of dark soft curls. The ones Anders desperately missed running his fingers through.

He shoved the clothes in the drawer without sorting, or even separating them. One wad, one drawer. Hanging up could wait. Fuck that. Fuck everything.

“Room service, send up a bottle of Akvavit and some ice. Now!”

 

*******

 

John Mitchell breezed into the flat and went straight into the kitchen. Annie had her back to him, concentrating on a particularly stubborn stain in the sink. She didn’t know he was there until he reached past her a cup to make tea. She flung the sponge into the air and squealed comically. He burst out laughing and stood there, cup in hand grinning at her while she slapped him repeatedly with a kitchen towel.

“You bugger! Gone for three days and you come waltzing in here and scare me half to death!” She snatched the cup from his hand. “Sit down and I’ll make your tea.”

He made a face at her, then backed off when she popped him harder with the towel. “I was gonna make m’self a sannie and…”

“Oh don’t be cute with me, Mitchell. Sit down and I’ll fix the sandwich. We don’t have much since you haven’t seen fit to show up and George hasn’t gone grocery shopping.” She made sure he sat down and rummaged in the fridge.

She finally looked up at him and raised one eyebrow. “Well there’s something green in here it’s either very new cheese or very old meat.” She ignored the vampire’s whimper and continued. “There is a still some orange marmalade. You could have that on toast. George will be home directly and maybe we can go grocery shopping.”

“I’ll take you up on the toast and jam, but I’d kinda like to skip the grocery shopping. I’m pretty tired.” He rolled the salt shaker around in his hand, finding its contents far too interesting.

Annie popped two slices of bread into the toaster and turned the heat up under the kettle. “And what have you been doing to get so tired? Working? Digging ditches? or something…”

He set the salt down with a crack. “Since when have you been so interested in my social life?”

She stood there hands on her hips the perfect pictures of etherial outrage. “Since you bloody stopped coming home, that’s when. Don’t you know we worry about you?”

The vampire correctly translated that as _“I was worried about you and you scared me!”_ He stood up and went over to her. She drifted into his arms snuggling in for the hug. She wound her arms around him and held him tight. In another time—in another place they would have been perfect for each other. Now they were best friends, which probably was even better. He held her breathing in her scent. She always seemed to smell of violets or lavender. 

He petted her hair for a moment. “I’m sorry. If I’m ever away like that again I will check in more often. I forget sometimes that someone worries about me now.”

She snorted, but she accepted the apology. Since he had come to no harm it was okay. She’d forgive him anything. She pulled away, wrinkling her nose.

“You smell like someone else.”

He laughed. “Well…duh… I’ve been with someone else for three days, of course I do.”

“It doesn’t smell like a…”

“Hey George,” he bellowed, cutting her off. He ignored his flatmate’s frown. “How about pizza tonight, my treat. 

George was unsure how to react. He’d been ready to read Mitchell the riot act, but free pizza was always good. It made up for a lot of things. Most things, actually. He grinned, “Sure, sounds great. Anything on telly tonight?”

“The Real Hustle,” Mitchell answered quickly. It's on tonight and it’s about hotel key switches.”

George hung his jacket up and hopped onto the couch. “I worked with a bloke who had something like that happened to him. They stole everything he had in the room.” He took the cup of tea that Annie offered. “You can’t be too careful today. There are a lot of strange people in the world.”

“George, don't you want to know where Mitchell's been?” Annie stood in front of him, hands on her hips looking very determined.

He shrugged, then looked past her at his flatmate. “Did you get pepperoni on it?”

Mitchell grinned. “And Lincolnshire sausage.”

George froze in place. “No way! I love Lincolnshire sausage, but you have to pay extra.”

“I felt like splashing out.”

“Brilliant!” George picked up a magazine he'd started reading the night before.

“Is that it?” she demanded of George. “Mitchell's gone for three days but it's all good because he ordered pizza?”

“With Lincolnshire sausage,” George added sagely.

Annie looked straight at Mitchell, who was suddenly very interested in the remote. 

 

******

 

The first night was admittedly lonely. Anders missed the long lean body who kept taking up most of the bed, tangling the blankets and insinuating a leg repeatedly into his space. The second night was more restful as he got used to having not having to share the bed again. He woke up and found he had slept diagonally, claiming the entire bed. He pulled the other pillow over to rest his arm on and went back to sleep.

When he woke up he rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. Had he really spent three days in bed with another man? He dragged his fingers through his hair. It was getting long and he needed a hair cut.

_I want to see you with waves…_

He closed his eyes, but the image of Mitchell smiling down at him was burned in, following him with his eyes open or closed. He’d taken back the bed, but taking back his life wasn’t going to be as easy. And did he want to take back his life?

He rolled over and sat up. He started to get up and realized it was way too early to get up. His appointment wasn’t for another three hours. He went to the toilet and then back to bed. But he couldn’t get comfortable. He tried reasoning with himself that it had been an impulse…a kink.

Yes…that was it…a kink. 

It was no different from Mandy. Randy Mandy with her love of hand cuffs and paddles. He smiled, remembering her in her “fuck me” clothes from Fredericks of Hollywood. Crotchless panties were definitely something he could get into…in more ways than one. Hitting her with the paddle had been difficult at first, but when he saw the result he stopped worrying about it. He just let it all happen. Yeah, that’s what it had been with Mitchell…just a kink he’d let happen. 

He drifted off and woke to his morning wake-up call ringing in his ear and an almost painful erection. He picked up the receiver and slammed it back down. He barely remembered the dream, but it hadn’t been about Mandy. The arms and legs were too long, the hair hung in soft curls like black ribbons and warm chocolate eyes melted in an angular face that was somehow almost pretty.

Anders groaned and palmed his erection. It jumped as he stroked it wanting more. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on his last female companion. What was her name? Jessie? Amy? It didn’t matter—what mattered was her double-D tits and willing mouth that could suck the pattern off a tile floor. He concentrated on how good it felt when she went down on him. She was experienced and enthusiastic. She knew how to get a man going and how to give him what he needed. He concentrated on her, feeling her long hair as it flowed over his thighs, mentally watching her, remembering and feeling.

He came hard and long…but not with her. At the last moment his mind found a much more erotic image…one that had tangles of dark curls and stubble that scraped and teased and a mouth that was firmer and far more skillful. 

 

******

 

Mitchell mopped the floor in the ER swing room and surveyed his handiwork. It looked good. It had to be practically perfect because this was a place they saved lives. He’d never said anything to George, but he preferred working in the ER even with the scent of blood because in a small way he felt like he was giving back after having taken so many lives over the years. Those days were behind him but only by a step or two and he knew that if he didn’t keep moving they’d catch up to him again. Other vampires thought he was strong but he knew that he wasn’t. If he was strong he would have either managed to kick blood completely or driven a stake into his own black heart. He was roused from his musings by a nurse who came in found the room clean and shooed him out. 

“The Face,” they jokingly called him, but in truth he was as invisible in person as he was in a mirror. He got smiles from the nurses and an occasional wink, but no one wants to date a mere orderly. So many times he’d thought about trying to be more that this, but that would be to risk being found out. He’d always taken the easy way out. Go with the flow his Da had always said. He’d tried to make a difference in the Great War and look what it had gotten him. Herrick had spared his men, but had taken Mitchell straight to hell—do not pass go—do not collect $200.

“You gonna stand there all day?” The comment was rude, but the voice was George’s so his response was a grin.

“Just thinking about something. What’s up?”

“How would you like to come out with Nina and I tomorrow night?” George had that hopeful puppy dog look he got when he wanted Mitchell to agree to something.

“Why? Do you suddenly feel in need of a chaperone?” Mitchell pushed the mop bucket down the hall and George hurried to catch up.

He was grinning, so something was really up now. “I got you a date. I…”

Mitchell spun around and held his hand out. “Stop right there. You who can’t talk to women got me a date? And who said I wanted a date?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly get it for you. Molly, the new girl in the cafeteria, saw me and asked if you are available. I said you aren’t seeing anyone, so one thing led to another and Nina came up and we are all going out tomorrow night. Isn’t that brilliant?” he finished in a rush.

“Brilliant,” Mitchell agreed, his bores puled down into a frown. “Now who the fuck is Molly?”

George pushed up his glasses and stuttered, “She’s…uh…the new girl in the cafeteria.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh. Oh…she’s the little blond one you said was ‘cute.’ She was wearing her hair in a ponytail and you said she was cute.”

Mitchell shook his head and chuckled. “She is cute. She’s also about sixteen.”

George got that wonderfully puzzled look that made him look as if the gears in his head were all meshing at once. “No, I’m pretty positive you have to be at least eighteen to work here.”

“George, you prat, even if she’s twenty I’m still a hundred years older than she is. We’re not exactly going to have a lot in common to talk about, are we?” Mitchell didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. George, of all people, fixing him up. It was just the funniest sweetest thing.

He hung an arm around George’s shoulders and gave him a half hug. “I’m sorry, I’m acting like a wanker. I don’t have anything in common with most people, but I get on okay, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” George said with a lopsided grin. “You get on just fine.”

 

*******

 

Her name was Astrid. She was gorgeous. She was the reason Norway existed. Tall and golden…all over…she had nearly left him for dead. The first time was fun. The second enjoyable. By the third time he was exhausted and realized that he just wanted her to leave. He’d had an itch. She’d scratched it and her purpose had been served. He watched her puttering around in the bathroom and resisted the urge to speed her on her way. That would not be gentlemanly, not that he always was, but he needed to behave himself. He heaved a sigh and answered the phone. It was mother. Oh freaking joy.

Agnetha had apparently made some contacts in Oslo because his phone rang shortly after he’d hung up with her. Yes, he could be ready in two days. No, he didn’t have any clothes suitable for snowmobiling. Yes, he would go and buy what he was told to get. He looked at the remainder of his breakfast with distaste. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be back in Auckland with its temperate climate and palm trees. This place was beautiful and he was sure that at some point he might even enjoy it, but not today. He was restless and didn’t know why.

Anders went in to take a shower and found her panties draped over the shower rod. Why hadn’t the blond taken these with her. Surely in the north country a woman wouldn’t want her ass freezing off. He held the wisp of chiffon up, dangling it from one finger. He didn’t suppose there was enough material to keep a very small mouse warm. He dropped them in the waste basket finalizing his decision not to call he again. He hoped she hadn’t paid too much for the panties.

The shower was hot and he leaned into the stream of water letting it wash away the sweat and dried fluids from the night’s activities. He found he was uncharacteristically in a hurry to scrub himself clean. She’d worn some sort of perfume that had been heavy on musk, but it had a sweet note he found cloying. He remembered a scent of musk with deeper notes, a more natural scent…a more masculine scent…

He remembered sliding down in the shower and looking up at the man towering over him, tall and sleek, black hair glistening with water droplets, tangles of curls nearly obscuring eyes dark with passion. He’d done things he wouldn’t even admit to having dreamed of. It was fantasy come to life and he’d had a starring role. He felt himself starting to get an erection even though he would have sworn he was sated. He brushed the thoughts from his mind. He had business to tend to and had no time for this kind of nonsense. 

He was glad he had Agnetha’s credit card. Arctic gear wasn’t cheap. He had no intention of freezing to death so he just handed the sales assistant his phone and let him go down the list piling up purchases. The store agreed to send the mountain of supplies to his hotel which left him free to explore Oslo. Anything was better than sitting in the hotel room trying not to think. 

He flagged down a cab and slid into the rear. “Is there anything interesting in this city? Some place indoors would be best, I’m freezing.”

The cab driver snorted and turned to look at Anders. “We have a very rich culture here. I can take you to the natural history museum which has a fine collection of dinosaurs.” He ignored Anders’ pained expression at that idea and the next two, but when he said, “How about the Viking Ship Museum?” the Kiwi perked up.

A scant half an hour later the Norse god of poetry stood in front of an enormous long boat. The signed said it was the Gokstad ship, but Bragi looked at it through Anders’ eyes and remembered a ship longer still called Rød Drage…Red Dragon. He had ridden her once on a fair summer day when the sky was dotted with white clouds and the blue waters were so still you could not tell where sky and water joined. The smell of salt air was strong and a breeze ruffled Bragi's hair.

He didn’t know how long he stood there in front of the mighty ship remembering with another’s mind. Bragi was usually just a part of him, integrated and silent unless called forth. The museum was practically screaming and he could feel the god struggling to escape his mortal body and return to Asgard. Every fiber of his being wanted to climb onto that ship and sail…

“ _Unnskyld meg, sir,_ ” said someone next to him. He heard it but was a million miles and centuries away. “There was an insistent tug on his sleeve. “Excuse me, sir. Are you quite all right?”

Anders came back to himself with a snap. “Of course I am. Why are you bothering me?”

The man gave a tiny bow. “I am sorry sir, but the museum is closing. You must leave now.”

“Closing, but I just got here,” Anders said frowning. He looked around and saw that the sun was setting. It had been scarcely past noon when he’d walked up to the long boat.

“No sir. You have been standing here for hours looking at the boat.” He smiled apologetically. “I really must ask you to leave.”

Flustered, Anders nodded and walked quickly to the exit. Hours? How could he have stood there for hours? That wasn’t possible, but the Nordic sun was dipping low and there was no way to argue with that. He pinched the bridge of his nose hard and kept walking. He had no difficulty hailing a cab and barely remembered the ride back to his hotel.

When he got inside, instead of heading up to his room, he went across the lobby and entered the bar. “Vodka,” he said tersely. He waved off the glass that was set in front of him. “Bring me the bottle.”

 

*******

 

The double date had gone about as well as Mitchell expected. She was an adorable airhead. At least she made him laugh even if it was at her expense a few times. He couldn’t remember when he had been so innocent and so convinced that everything would work out for the best. She looked up at him with huge blue eyes. He blinked and suddenly remembered other blue eyes shaded by long dark lashes. Eyes bluer than the sky that had looked at him with absolute trust. He saw the shy smile, deep dimples framing it, lips soft pink with a perfect Cupid’s bow. Instead of pale skin there was light gold with a soft cloud of reddish beard that had tickled and scraped and teased…

“…don’t you agree?” the soft feline voice was directing a question at him.

“Huh?” He looked around seeing the girl in front of him as if for the first time. “What?”

“Haven’t you been listening to me at all?” she asked petulantly. 

“Uh…sorry…no…I guess not.” He was a little embarrassed to have ignored his date. “I’m sorry, it’s been a really long day and I’m afraid I’m not very good company.”

She accepted his apology, but kept prodding to make sure she kept his attention for the rest of the amazingly long evening.

“You know, you could have made more of an effort,” George said on the drive home. Nina and I were trying to cover for you but you made it pretty clear you weren’t interested in her.

“I’m really sorry,” Mitchell said leaning his head on the car window. “I’m tired and I really did tell you that I wasn’t interested in her. It’s not my fault that you and Nina feel the need to play matchmaker.”

“Matchmaker,“ George was outraged. “I’m not trying to hook you up.”

Mitchell smiled at his friend. “Yes you are. You and Nina are so much in love you want everyone around you to be as happy as you are. It’s okay, but I’m not looking to find someone right now.”

He looked out the window at the city and idly wondered how many vampires were out there. Bristol had far more than a city this size could support. “I just have other concerns, you know. Irons in the fire and all that.”

George nodded and dropped the subject.

Technically vampires didn’t need to sleep, but Mitchell had always gone to bed at night because it was another way of staying human. He loved the feeling of stretching out and wrapping himself up in blankets so that he felt warm and safe. It was a hold-over for his childhood and he cherished it. When he wasn’t in withdrawal his nights were peaceful, his dreams mellow and as blurred as if they were filmed through gauze.

This night was different. He woke rock hard with the feeling of a smaller muscular body draped across his, legs entwined. He could smell Anders and taste him. Even after he was fully awake the sensory ghosts lingered. His cock throbbed and he reached beneath the blanket to hold himself. He would really have preferred to go back to sleep but his body would not be gainsaid. It was insistent, the throbbing reaching down into the root deep into his abdomen.

Slowly he stroked himself. Pulling it up until his foreskin pooled at the top sliding over the head in a velvet caress and then stroking downward to the base where he squeezed and then slid up again. He tried to conjure up an image of a woman, but finally gave it up as a bad job and let himself remember being with Anders. 

He had never been a first time with a man and had found it both exhilarating and intimidating. He wanted to make it the best possible experience. There was something about Anders that made him want to take care of the smaller man. There was a vulnerability there under the bravado. He knew that there was a lot the Kiwi had not told him. They both had secrets and while he knew that Anders’ would not be as dark as his something told him that they were as painful with something ugly woven in.

Mitchell closed his eyes and remembered the heat and enthusiasm of Anders’ kisses. He’d been awkward at first, shy and nervous, but eager and a willing student. He’d explored cautiously at first, but as he’d gotten past the idea of a scruffy beard and a flat chest with long soft hair, he’d acted as if he couldn’t get enough of Mitchell. He could still feel the damp burning kisses that left him breathless and writhing with need.

He fisted his cock harder, sliding up and down the length, squeezing and twisting his hand slightly to vary the sensation. His hips rose to meet his descending hand, internal muscles clenched drawing every ounce of sensation from his self pleasure. Slowly he slid his hand up and tugged at his nipples moaning softly at the tiny electric shocks they sent racing to the tip of his cock. 

Closing his eyes, he conjured up the vision of Anders kneeling before him in the tub. He’d looked like a god, gorgeous features, golden hair, crystal blue eyes and a perfect body. He was compact, every line flowing together to create a whole that was more than the sum of it’s parts. He’d looked up at Mitchell with a wonder that he would never forget. Strong hands were everywhere, sliding, caressing, tugging, teasing until he’d thought he would scream if his parter didn’t take him into his mouth and ground him to this earth.

Mitchell wished he remembered more of their time in the shower. He was so lost in sensation, both physically and mentally that the images came to him like snapshots. He saw a look of awe, one of love, one of amusement, one of contentment. He felt hands, fingers that trailed, scraped, caressed and slid up into hot hidden areas that welcomed their sweet invasion. Lips touched him, teeth nipped and tugged at tender skin then slid away to be replaced by soothing kisses. A tongue wound it’s way up from instep to testicle, moving quickly and slowly, softly and probing, pushing and sucking insistent and relentless.

He felt himself engulfed, tongue laving along the bottom of his shaft while hands stroked and held and urged. Sweet, sweet suction that nearly collapsed his knees, short curls that served to brace him and hold him up while he sucked in great lungfuls of breath and cried out in a steady soft keen of pleasure. 

His hand moved faster as his body demanded release, the images conjuring Anders before him—a sweet ghost of pleasure who knew exactly where to touch and tug. His hand threw back the blankets moments before his release roared over him…a wave of pleasure so intense that it left him feeling dizzy.

He lay gasping in its aftermath, his chest hair spattered with white droplets that sparkled in the light from the window. He grabbed a handful of tissue and wiped himself down. He’d need a shower first thing tomorrow. Right now he didn’t trust his legs to hold him up. 

He threw the tissue onto the floor and looked at the ceiling. It had been three days with no call. He’d thought sure the Kiwi would have called him by now. Maybe he was the only one that thought it as magic. Maybe Anders had thought it over and had decided to fly back to New Zealand and keep pretending. He’d done it this long, he could probably spend the rest of his life doing it. The thought brought a lump to the vampire’s chest. He ball his hand into a fist. He didn’t want to feel like this about someone he’d just met. He looked over at the phone. Maybe he should call Anders. He almost reached for it, but fear of rejection made him pause and then drop his arm down onto the bed. Better to just let it go than hear excuses. Maybe he’d call tomorrow. Maybe. Pulling up the covers he rolled over and shut his eyes searching for a happy memory to focus on. His last thought was of Anders laughing as Mitchell kissed his palm.

 

*******

 

Anders was fucking freezing. He hadn’t felt his toes in hours. He wasn’t sure he even had toes anymore. He was also pretty sure his balls had crawled back inside to hide and had taken his dick with them. He’d gotten instructions to fly to Lakselv and had met his guide, who said his name was Hugin. He was apparently one of Odin’s ravens in human form. When he wasn’t making weird noises and for some fucksaken reason banging his head on Anders, he was relatively normal. Well…if you had a really loose definition of normal, that is. 

He had to admit that he’d gotten quite a charge out of him barging in and grunting at Agnetha. He thought it might help her appreciate what he was going through, but of course she just reminded him to fetch as if he were her lap dog. They’d straighten that out when the got back.  
They’d taken a Land Rover, switched to some weird truck thing with treads that looked as if a junkyard in Detroit had exploded and then mated with a tank. At least Hugin knew how to drive it because he sure the fuck didn’t. Now he was on a huge snowmobile roaring along beneath an overcast sky wondering how in any god’s name this had sounded like a good idea.

Just fuck!

They were headed south but it looked as if they were driving directly into the ocean. That was impossible as the ocean was to the north. Just when every cell in his body started to scream that he was going to die sitting on a fucking snowmobile, sitting behind fucking Bird Man, in the middle of the fucking tundra--they shot through what had to be a barrier. It popped audibly, setting his ears ringing.

For an instant they appeared to be suspending space. He had an impression, more in his mind than his eyes, of being surrounded by glittering color so bright it almost burned. Nausea clawed at his stomach as he felt as if the entire universe had flipped and then righted itself. Bifrost was amazing but fortunately for Anders’ gut their journey along it was brief. The snowmobile set down abruptly with a thump and the world was back to normal. 

Asgard was amazingly beautiful. The sun was out glinting off the snow making the drifts look diamond dust. The air was noticeably warmer. An eagle circled overhead, dipped low as if looking at them and then flew into the sun.

“Dey, know we are here,” Hugin yelled over his shoulder. “De giants know where de tree is. We find them--we find da tree.”

Anders wondered how hard it would be to find giants...and just how big would these giants be? Would they be friendly? It had been a long time since he’d read the myths, but he didn’t remember good things about them. When he agreed to this mummy dearest had not mentioned giants. He definitely would have remembered.

Hugin drove like they couldn’t die, slamming the snowmobile over hillocks that nearly catapulted Anders off the back. He screamed at him to slow down, but the wind blew his words back into his face. He concentrated on holding on for dear life and using up his entire repertoire of swear words. The worst part was that he had an unpleasant feeling that Bragi was thoroughly enjoying the ride. Fucker.

They crashed through a woods that looked as if it had stood since the dawn of time. The trees seemed tall enough to support the sky. Strange animals ran from them or stopped to watch. All of them were snow white and huge. This was definitely not the place for a smallish Kiwi to get stranded. He stared at a bear that had to weigh a ton. The bear stared back and then charged. Suddenly they didn’t seem to be going fast enough. Anders scrunched his eyes closed and prayed that it couldn’t catch up.

As abruptly as they had entered the woods they burst out of it practically into the yard of a log cabin. It looked like, well...a ski lodge for giants. Hugin slid the snowmobile to a stop at the foot of the steps and got off, motioning for Anders to do the same. He then leaped from step to step climbing to the front door. To Anders horror he pounded hard and yelled something unintelligible.

The door swung open and Anders was stunned to find he was staring at the biggest most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She was dressed in an amazing amount of fur, but nothing could hide the fact that this particular giant could probably kill most men and have them die smiling. 

She said something to him and Hugin translated.

“Good day to you, little Bragi I am Hildur,” she said through Hugin. She smiled and beckoned them to come in. “It is cold out, ja? You come in and I make for you the björr to warm you.”

Anders was very self conscious about having to actually climb onto a chair like a small child. Hildur didn’t seem to notice and continued to smile, pouring something from a kettle on the huge wood stove. In deference to the size of her guests she had used what were probably child-sized mugs. It took two hands to heft and proved to be full of hot fermented cider that also tasted of beer. Always a fan of alcohol, Anders embraced it and took a long pull as he watched her fish something out of a second pot on the stove.

She set the plate with a great quivering chunk of gray sludge in front of him with a smile and he froze as the smell of piss hit him. Trying to smile politely, he turned to Hugan and whispered, “What the fuck is this shit?”

The man-raven grinned and shoved a chunk into his mouth. “ _Hakikarl._ ” He wedged the chunk into his cheek so he could talk around it. “It's the fermented shark.” Hugan swallowed and cut off another hunk. “You let da shark rot so it's not poisonous and then you ferment it.” He waved his knife around like a conductor. “It's food for brave men.”

“It's food for crazy men,” Anders muttered, pushing it around for a moment then abandoning it in favor of the oversized tankard in his hands. Fortunately the two of them were ignoring him and he sat sipping as he listened to his guide and Hildur talk.

At length the guide gave him a sympathetic look and got up. As he passed Anders he banged his head on the god's shoulder which was apparently the raven equivalent of a pat on the arm. Anders swatted him away before he could stop himself. Hugin didn’t seem to mind though and left smiling. 

“ _Lykke til,_ ” he said cheerfully. “Good luck my friend you may have need of it.” He looked over at the giant who was leaning back in her chair smiling. “Hildur says that it’s been a good long time since she’s had a god and she doesn’t care if you are a teeny tiny one. She likes the _gropene_...er...the pits on your face.”

“The pits on my face?” The god’s mouth dropped open and he sat there stunned, his mug forgotten in his hands for a moment. 

“Ja, those ones on either side when you smile. Sure they make you cute. Very _søt_ and Hildur she likes the cute ones.” He laughed and slapped his leg. “You two have the nice time. I take good long time fix da snowmobile. Ja...a good long time.”

The door had nearly shut when Anders set the mug down and called after him. “I’m NOT small!” 

He turned and looked up at Hildur. “I’m not…”

She bent over and kissed him. Bragi liked that a lot and took over the driving. For the first time ever Anders sat back and watched the show. The god was usually not a presence and there was never a thought that he was possessed of the spirit of an ancient Norse god. Up until now he hadn’t really thought of the god of poetry as a separate entity. Up until now…he had been wrong.

Bragi practically climbed Hildur as if she were some gloriously beautiful tree. Anders watched with a combination of desire, amusement and astonishment as Bragi proved himself a match for the giant. It was nice to know he could give a good accounting of himself even if he wasn’t the one doing the accounting…well not totally anyway.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. On the list of weird experiences it was right at the top, but shagging a lovely woman who is bent over a table is not something you take lightly…even if he did have to persuade Bragi to drag the box over to stand on. Silly blighter didn’t want to admit that he needed it. 

He knew he was grinning like an idiot when he came out to find his guis lounging on the snowmobile smoking and looking amused. He knew he was blushing, but it was forgotten as Hildur made an appearance at the door and yelled at Hugin, pointing to the right. She waved at him as they sped away and he found himself waving back.

It grew colder, the air more bitter, the sky darker and Anders could believe that they were heading to the edge of the world. There were no birds, or animals. Nothing but snow, crusting white and endless. Whatever tinkering Nanook had done with the snowmobile he prayed that it would continue to run. It would be death to get stuck here in the white…nothing…

And suddenly it was before them.

Yggdrasil loomed out of the mist too large for the eye to take in or the brain to comprehend. They were on a plane near branches but the size was too immense to even begin to estimate where on the tree they were. The branches they could see vanished out into the silver-blue mist that shrouded the tree. 

Hugan cut the engine and they walked the rest of the way. He put an arm out to top Anders as they approached the tree. “Have a care, little god, the tree has guardians.”

They approached the Yggdrasil cautiously and the guide reached out and tugged on a branch. Nothing happened. Looking relieved he turned to Anders,“Ratatosk is not here, but put da hurry on ‘cause ya never know when da little _drittsekk_ be back.”

Remembering the tale of the squirrel who carries tales to stir the feud between the eagle at the top and the dragon at the roots. It would not do to be sawing off a branch while the little mischief-maker was passing. The branch was quickly removed and stowed on the snowmobile. The guide strapped it down apparently knowing that Agnetha would castrate him if anything happened to it. The two of them had just climbed on when Hugan looked up and pointed.

“Da eagle!”

Anders looked up to sedan enormous eagle circling the top of the tree. It let out a shriek that make his ears ring and dove straight at them. He was glad he already had a tight hold on the snowmobile. Hugan gunned it and it went early vertical and kept forward, nearly leaving Anders behind. 

The eagle checked his dive and soared after them still screaming. Hugin opened the throttle and the huge engine roared, the trees churning up snow and rocks in their wake, Unable to keep up the huge eagle was left behind as the guide pushed the snowmobile, crashing through small drifts and leaping the larger ones. He drove as if their lives depended on it. Since there was no way of knowing who the eagle reported to, it might well be the truth. They roared past Hildur’s lodge and plunged into the forest barely losing speed. The white bear was no longer there, but a huge white elk with far too many legs appeared for a moment before leaping away in impossibly long bounds. 

They darted in a slalom course among the trees and for the first time since he was a child Anders prayed to a god larger than he was. He seemed as if they would never leave the woods, but once they were out and saw two large eagles circling overhead it appeared as if the woods might have been the been safer. The huge birds, not having lost ground in fruitless dive were able to pace them, crying out their location. Anders searched his mind but couldn’t come up with who might respond to their alarm.

The snowmobile hit a drift at an angle and rolled, throwing Anders headfirst into the snow. He came up sputtering and cursing to see Hugin fighting to right the machine. 

“Get over here and push!” There was an edge of panic to his voice as he struggled to get their ride upright.

Suddenly Anders was afraid. He raced over, tripping as the soft snow tugged at his boots. “Is someone chasing us?” he yelled as he neared the machine.

“Ja. Ja…not someone…something…” He waved in the direction they’d just come and Anders heard a pack of wolves that sounded as if they were getting closer and closer. “Dey be wolves and they eat us fer sure we don’t get a move on.” 

The gods may be gone but the guardians of Asgard lived on. Odin may be trapped in the body of Axl, but he still had guardians waiting for him and apparently for intruders. The god grabbed the side of the snowmobile and proved that all those hours at the gym hadn’t been wasted. It flipped upright, bounced and came to rest with Hugin already in the saddle keying the ignition. Blessedly it roared to life and Anders threw himself on the back holding on for dear life as the guide gunned it waking up all those horses in the engine at once. The snowmobile hit the next drift perfectly and they were airborne before slamming down and blasting forward again.

Anders heard the wolves getting closer. He was afraid to look back. He’d never considered himself to be particularly brave, but he knew that if he had to he would go down fighting. He just prayed that it wouldn’t come to that. He didn't want to fucking die in Asgard trying to use a stupid tree branch as a bo stick. He didn't want to die without seeing Mitchell again.

The shimmer of the mist of Bifrost appeared and Anders heaved a huge sigh of relief as they blasted through it. The blinding array of color and moment of nausea was more than welcome. He didn’t even mind when they slammed down onto the rocky terrain of northern Norway and he bit his tongue.

Anders didn’t remember much about the flight back to Oslo. He thought he was lost when the eagles started circling and to have wolves chasing him brought home all those horrible Russian paintings he’d seen as a child. He looked at the vodka in his glass, watching the light shimmer on the ice cubes. He wondered if he’d been killed if his mother would have just sent Ty up to fetch the branch and if Ty was lost would Mike have been next? He’d called her to let her he’d gotten the branch and when he started to tell her of their escape, she cut him off by asking when he would be back. That’s when he hung up and turned off his phone.

He finished the drink and had another and then another. When the bartender cut him off, he went up to his room and sat staring at the nearly full bottle of Akvavit wondering idly if it would hurt to die of alcohol poisoning. He pulled out his phone fully intending to look it up. When he turned it on he saw that he had a text…from Mitchell.

“Miss U.”

He sat staring at the screen with the message from the only person on earth who seemed to care if he was alive or not.

The tears came then.

When he could breathe again, Anders blew his nose, got up and went into the bathroom. He splashed cold water onto his face and looked into the mirror. The man who looked back was haggard with dark circles under red-rimmed eyes. His beard needed trimming and so did his hair. His shirt was rumpled and hung untucked over equally wrinkled pants. 

He put his hands on the sink and leaned toward the man in the mirror.

“Who are you?”

“Who the fuck _are_ you?”

He bowed his head and when he looked back up he saw a man who had lived his life in smoke and mirrors. It was all an illusion, from pretending not to be afraid when he was little, to the cocky teen who learned karate to defend himself when his sharp tongue cut too deeply, to the frat boy who partied hearty and barely skimmed by on his looks and charm, to the polished and cold PR man who gave nothing to anyone. Worst—the womanizer who hopped from bed to bed and wasn’t averse to using Bragi as a date rape drug. 

He despised himself.

He started to walk out of the bathroom, but paused in the door. He looked back at the stranger in the mirror.

“Who are you?” It was a whisper this time.

 

******

 

Mitchell was asleep when his phone rang. He was so groggy that it took him several tries to answer it. “Hullo…”

“I missed you too.” The voice was so low that the vampire could barely hear it inspire of his keen hearing.

“Anders… Anders, is that you?” 

Mitchell was suddenly awake sitting up in his bed holding the phone with both hands as if it trying to escape. “Is it really you?”

“Yes, it’s really me. I’m sorry it took me so long to call you. I had to travel where they had no service.” He paused, realizing that his voice was shaking. 

“I didn’t think you’d call,” the vampire admitted.

“I didn’t think I’d call either,” Anders said quietly. “I’m pretty fucked up.”

“So am I.”

“Do you want to be fucked up together? I can be in London tomorrow, or would you prefer Bristol?” 

“London…London, would be good.” Mitchell laughed “London would be great. Really great.”

“I will call you tomorrow and let you know when my flight arrives,” Anders said feeling a million years old.

“Okay. You’ll call me tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, tomorrow…”

There was a long pause.

“Mitchell…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to hang up…”

“Neither do I, babe. I thought I’d lost you…”

“I am lost.” His tears were close to the surface and Mitchell could her the quaver in his voice. 

“You’re not lost any more because I’ve found you. Get some sleep and I will be waiting at the airport for you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I always keep my promises. So sleep now and I will see you tomorrow.” Mitchell wished desperately that he could be there to hold Anders and drive away the sadness. “Sleep sweet, love.”

Anders’ voice was a broken whisper, “You too, Mitchell. You too…”

He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Mitchell sat up in bed for a long time looking at the phone in his hand and wondering by what miracle it had brought Anders back to him. At last weariness overtook him and he too settled down and slept peacefully through the night.


	2. Blowing Away the Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is so much story that this story is being broken into 3 chapters. You won't be bored, this one is mostly sweet hot sex. ;)
> 
> Anders and Mitchell have missed each other a lot. Anders, who is always fairly gentle with his lovers, is finding that he's even more tender with Mitchell. There is security to be found in the arms of a strong man, no doubt about it. Mitchell loves to take care of people. The eternal optimist, he wears his heart on his sleeve always hoping for the best.

The first thing Anders did when he woke was to call the airport and book his flight. He booked it, trudged to the toilet and then into the shower. He let the hot water cascade over him, feeling as if he would never get the chill of Asgard out of his bones. He turned the shower head up to the massage setting and did some stretches. That felt better and he thought he might even be fit to greet the day without wanted to drop kick it into next week.

He ordered room service and stuck to what he recognized on the menu. No more _Trikkelfett_. If he wanted to live adventurously he would rather hang glide than eat any more pork fat. What the fuck had he been thinking anyway? He picked up the phone and punched Mitchell’s number. He answered on the first ring.

“Anders?” Mitchell hadn’t even waited for him to speak.

“Good morning, Mitchell. Sleep well?”

Mitchell’s voice practically purred. “Like a baby. How about you?”

“Yeah, pretty good. I’d like to say I dreamed about you, but I was so tired I don't think I dreamed at all.” Why lie? He turned off the charm he normally used. He didn’t need to use it and that was, admittedly, an odd feeling.

“I kept waking up. I even checked the phone once to make sure it wasn’t a dream.” Mitchell sounded slightly embarrassed.

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

“It is?”

Anders chuckled. “Yeah, it is.” He found himself smiling. “It really is.”

Once again they found they didn’t want to hang up. Anders discovered that talking to Mitchell resulted in him needing to re-button his shirt twice. He hadn’t had trouble with a tie since he was a teen, but he did now. It tangled around his fingers and his first knot looked a lot like the first one he’d ever tried to tie.

There was giggling on the other end of the phone.

“I almost dropped the phone into the toilet,” Mitchell admitted.

“Well for christsake put it the fuck down when you piss,” Anders laughed.

“I didn’t want you to hear me.” The answer was very quiet and more than a little embarrassed.

Anders threw back his head and laughed. “For fuck’s sake, I’ve heard you come, I think I can live through listening to you piss.”

There was dead silence until Mitchell started to laugh. It was beautiful, rising and falling as he ran out of breath and had to take another. Anders knew how he looked, head thrown back, dark eyes twinkling, curls spilling into his face and started to grin.

“And that’s a sound I can hardly wait to hear again…”

They finally agreed to hang up, but both knew that one or the other would have to call before Anders plane touched down at 3:20p.

It was possibly the longest day that Anders ever remembered having. Mitchell wasn’t doing much better. He practically cleaned his bank account out buying the round trip train ticket, called in to work and said he had urgent family business that couldn’t wait. His flatmates were the tough sell though.

“What do you mean you’re going to London for a few days?” Annie got off the kitchen chair and walked in a circle before coming to a stop in front of him.

Mitchell shrugged. “I met someone and I promised I’d go.”

Her mouth twisted and George stopped shoveling cereal into his mouth. “Who did you meet? ‘Sat why you were gone for three days?”

Mitchell took another bite of toast. “Yeah, that’s why. Look, it’s not a big deal. I’ll only be a couple of days. They don’t even live in England, so I won’t be long.”

“They?” Annie pounced on the pronoun like a cat on a mouse. “What do you mean they? Who is this ‘they’?”

The vampire stirred his tea and added a little more milk. “Just someone. Look, don’t I deserve to go and meet someone if I want to? It’s not like I’m a child—so stop treating me like one.”

He set the toast down so hard that it flipped jelly side down onto the table. He peeled it up. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Look it’s not that big a deal. Don’t turn it into one.”

George nodded. “You go and have a good time.” he got that George Look and heaved a sign. “Don’t worry about leaving me here to do all the work.”

Mitchell turned around and looked at him aghast. “What bloody work?”

George laughed. “Go. Meet your mysterious person. You’re the one losing time at work, so don’t blame me when you don’t have the brass to go out and get pissed. And you know that after you ‘meet someone’ you always need to get pissed.”

Mitchell smiled shyly. “I won’t this time. You’ll see.”

“George!” Annie protested. “We don’t even know who he’s going to see.”

“Annie, he’s a hundred and twenty year old vampire. I think he can take care of himself…well most of the time.”

She looked a little abashed. Walking up to Mitchell she hugged him. “Well, take your jacket, you know you are always getting cold and the weather is turning colder.”

He drew her into a hug and kissed her cheek. “You are the best, Annie. You too, George, you’re the best friends a bloke could ever have.”

“George, could you give me a lift to the train station?”

 

******

 

The Heathrow concourse was huge, but Anders had no difficulty spotting Mitchell. He was wearing a black jacket and skinny jeans with a perfectly dreadful plaid shirt and black Tee under it. For some reason he was wearing fingerless gloves, but he looked good enough to eat. He was standing in the arrivals area bouncing from one foot to the other. He saw Anders, but security measures blocked him from running over until the Kiwi had actually entered the concourse.

No one watching could have actually said who started moving first. The two of them met at almost a run and Anders felt himself lifted until he was nose to nose with Mitchell. Their lips found one another in a sloppy desperate kiss that went on and on. They were oblivious to anything but each other. The rest of the passengers pushed past them, some grumbling that they should “get a room,” others grinning and more than a few threw them a ‘thumbs up.’

“Missed you so much,” Mitchell endeavored to say around Anders’ tongue. The answer was a happy gurgle.

When the blond finally ran out of breath, they separated. Mitchell held him aloft for a few moments more before Anders finally mentioned that his feet weren’t touching the floor. The vampire chuckled and set him down gently.

“We should probably get your luggage.”

“Yeah, we need to get my clothes so that I can get out of the ones I’m wearing.”

They both laughed and walked to baggage claim hand-in-hand. There was a problem getting Yggdrasil and that necessitated an annoying walk over to customs. Mitchell waited more or less patiently while Bragi sorted it out and they were on their way to the desk to book a hotel room.

“King-sized bed,”Anders specified, looking meaningfully at the reservations clerk. She looked from him to Mitchell and heaved a sigh. Isn’t it always the best looking ones…?

Getting a taxi only took a moment. Yggdrasil was large enough to have to be stowed in the car, dividing the backseat into two areas. Refusing to be separated, Anders basically climbed into Mitchell’s lap. Their cabdriver, a conservative gentleman, frowned, but his disapproval was met by two blazingly cheerful smiles and they did refrain from molesting each other for the whole of the trip. Anders tipped him generously which made him smile and wish them a good time while in London.

The Hilton London Heathrow looked sufficient to the Kiwi, but the expression on Mitchell’s face when they pulled up was priceless. He was so going to enjoy this stop on so many levels. When Anders collected the key at check-in the concierge gave Mitchell a meaningful look. He obviously mistook the vampire for a rent boy.

“This is not that type of hotel Mr. Johnson. Perhaps I can suggest another establishment that would be more suited to your needs.” He gave Mitchell a disgusted look that intensified when he looked back at Anders. “We are a high class estab...”

Anders practically yanked Bragi awake and to the front. His voice was very soft and Bragi spoke rapidly and adamantly. “My companion is no fucking prostitute. If you want to continue working here you will accord him every respect. Is that clear? We are the nicest people you have ever had stay, we are to be afforded every courtesy, every luxury. Room service will be comped as will any liquor I order.”

“Yes sir. Of course, sir.” His whole demeanor changed. He smiled broadly first at Anders and then at Mitchell. He came around the desk and extended his hand to the vampire. “It is a pleasure to have you stay with us, Mr. Mitchell. If you or Mr. Johnson need anything, feel free to call on me personally.”

The vampire was astonished and allowed the man to shake his hand. He looked at Anders questioningly, seeing only approval on his face. It gave him pause for a moment. He had no idea what had caused the sudden change. Perhaps it was just the power of money and position. Anders was rich and he was respected, two things Mitchell knew he would never be. Suddenly he felt out of place.

Anders stepped in to take Mitchell’s arm. “Let’s go up to our room. Have you eaten lunch yet? All I had was the bag of snacks on the plane. Let’s go order room service.”

The concierge overheard, “I can have something sent up, what would you gentleman like to order?”

He was reaching for the menu when Anders waved it away. “Send up something normal and delicious—nothing fancy. And beer. Pilsners for me.” He looked at Mitchell who nodded. “And vodka—Fenris, if you have it.”

The concierge snapped his fingers and a uniformed man appeared, collected their luggage, took their key card and led them to the elevator. Anders followed as if he owned the place. Mitchell tagged along behind, busy taking in the sights in the lobby. But when the door was opened for them Mitchell stepped into another world.

It was the biggest room he’d ever seen, dominated by the king size bed, but offering a separate seating area with a sofa. Four huge throw pillows were artfully arranged at the head of the bed and a quick peek showed that there was a shower large enough to dance in as well as a huge bath tub. He’d been in posh hotels before but it had been decades ago and they couldn’t hold a candle to this.

Anders tipped the porter, stripped off his tie and hung it in the closet with his suit jacket. He turned to find a shoeless Mitchell sprawled out in the middle of the king-size bed. He started for him only to receive a throw pillow to the chest, quickly followed by another.

“Hey!” He ducked the third, letting it whiz by his shoulder as he bent to snatch one up and return fire. The bedside lamp took a direct hit, but didn’t blink. Apparently it was used to abuse. Mitchell snatched the pillow up and threw it with perfect aim.

Anders was getting a little irritated. “If you don’t stop hitting me, I’m gonna pound your ass!”

Mitchell hurled one of the big pillows with a wicked grin. “I’m counting on it.”

That stopped the Kiwi in his tracks, the pillow hitting him with a poof and sliding to the floor. Suddenly he was so hard he wasn’t sure if he could walk. He made it over to the bed without further attack. Climbing up from the foot, he crawled up between Mitchell’s spread legs. Placing his knees carefully he knelt over the taller man looking down into that blazing smile.

“I thought you didn’t even want to discuss it,” he said, feeling as if his voice was ragged with desire and tension.

Mitchell slid his hands up Anders’ arms caressing the strong muscles that supported him and then up to his shoulders. His right hand continued up to cup his chin and then trail across his beard to his lips. Playfully the vampire’s thumb traced his cupid’s bow, teasing him.

“You came back. You practically molested me in the airport.” He met Anders’ eyes, both of them seeing their reflections there. “You’ve made your choice. This isn’t a test any more. This is where you want to be.”

“God yes,” the blond whispered, capturing the thumb between even white teeth. He bit down gently and then pulled it in sucking on it slowly. Mitchell watched him, passion rolling over him like a tide, threatening to sweep him away.

He pulled Anders down into a kiss that was hot and messy. There was more licking than kissing, they were trying to consume each other. Teeth clicked and Mitchell squeaked as he was accidentally nipped, but it didn’t matter and it didn’t slow them down. The pinch was kissed away by apologetic lips that worked their way downward.

Mitchell stopped him. “Shower first. I love you in the shower.”

“We won’t make it back out,” Anders warned. “Once I get my hands on you it will be all over.”

The brunette chuckled. “Then it’s a good thing we will have water to wash it off, isn’t it?”

Anders’ cock jumped at the thought. He rolled off of Mitchell and picked up the phone. “We will be showering. Have room service place our food inside the room. Thank you.” He kicked off his shoes and headed for the bathroom.

Mitchell beat him to the shower and was trying to figure out the controls. Anders, being a man of the world, reached over and flipped it on adjusting the temperature to comfortably warm for them both. He turned to find that Mitchell had removed his plaid shirt and was pulling his T-shirt over his head. As he did Anders leaned forward and captured one golden nipple between his lips and sucked gently. The T-shirt paused, obscuring the vampire’s surprise and delight, but only for a moment as it was stripped off and flung into a corner.

He bent to watch Anders sucking his nipple, shivering as he flicked it with his tongue and then teasing it gently with his teeth as it hardened and swelled. Mitchell ran his fingers over the Kiwi’s hair teasing at the crisp curls and sliding down to trace the shell of his ear, evoking a soft moan.

Anders worked his way to the other nipple, nuzzling the soft dark hair that graced the vampire’s chest. It was so erotic to feel it against his cheeks, to nibble and tug at it with lips and teeth. It smelled of musk and male and Mitchell. He loved everything about it.

When his partner could stand it no longer, he pulled Anders upright and claimed his lips in a slow sensuous kiss. Anders rose tiptoe to return it, holding the kiss as Mitchell unbuttoned his shirt, unbuckled his belt and catch to his trousers and then unzipped them. He had a fleeting thought that the vampire was very dexterous, but the kiss reclaimed his attention and he let the pants drop to the floor and stepped out of them.

He didn’t have quite the finesse of his partner, but Anders managed to get Mitchell’s jeans unbuttoned and worked down over his hips. Those skinny jeans looked fine, but they fit him like a second skin and were being as stubborn as one. Taking pity on him, the vampire reached down, grabbed, shimmied and they fell to be kicked into the same corner as his shirt.

They stood belly to belly, light against dark, tall paired with slightly shorter, slim with muscular. Mitchell turned slightly and Anders followed.

“I’m the Yin to your Yang,” he said softly dropping a kiss on Anders’ forehead. “The dark to your light.”

Anders tipped his face up for a kiss. When it broke Mitchell smiled at him. “We fit together perfectly.”

The Kiwi made a wry face, but his partner’s confused look stopped him from saying anything. He looked up at Mitchell. “I have a hard time thinking of myself as fitting with anyone.”

Long strong arms slid around him pulling him close. He could see himself in the mirror being drawn in, protected, held…cherished. He felt a warmth that he wasn’t familiar with. “I’m so tired of being alone.”

“You’re not alone any more, Anders. You’re with me.”

He stood there for a long moment telling himself that he was a complete idiot, an asshole and that love is for suckers and gullible women. Mitchell pulled him closer and the balloon of realism and objection collapsed in upon itself. He suddenly wanted to believe in love and forever-after more than anything in the world.

‘Yeah,” he whispered raggedly. “I am, aren’t I?”

The shower felt wonderful. Even more wonderful was having someone to wash your back for you. Mitchell’s long strong fingers slid and massaged and reached in front to tease sensitive nipples and slide down slick skin to explore. Anders leaned back against him enjoying the feeling of the vampire’s semi-erection pressing into the top curve of his ass. It was decadent and erotic and felt absolutely right.

He turned and squeezed a dollop of the fancy soap. He worked it into a lather, playing with swirling the vampire’s chest hair into intricate scrolls. Mitchell laughed and watched him play. It felt wonderful to just relax and feel no stress or hunger—just pure pleasure. His partner’s hands worked their way downward and he forget everything but what he was feeling.

Anders soaped carefully and slowly as if he was determined to memorize every muscle, every curve. He was enchanted with the pool of soft hair that encircled Mitchell’s navel. It was delightful as if it had trickled down from his chest and formed a slow eddy before moving down even further. His fingers followed in and his partner giggled.

“No one has ever been that fascinated with my belly hair before.”

“No one has had the common sense to appreciate it then,” Anders replied, drawling a slick hand down the length of Mitchell’s chest and belly, making him shiver with pleasure.

When Anders quested lower Mitchell nearly lost his footing, regaining it to thrust forward into Anders’ hand. He groaned throatily, his breath coming in harsh gasps. He slid one hand around to cup the blond’s ass and with the other he returned the caresses, causing Anders to be the one moaning.

There was too much mutual lust. They had flown too high and both knew it. Like Icarus, they headed for the sun knowing the end would be a burst of flames that would end them.

Mitchell peaked first, head thrown back, dark hair hanging in wet ribbons that trailed his forehead and cheeks. His dark eyes were nearly black, blind to everything except the insistent movement at the core of him. His erection was sliding easily in the slickness of the expensive soap, it was intense and consuming. He cried out spattering Anders’ hand and both their chests with droplets that tangled in the wet hair and hung suspended.

Seeing his partner orgasm sent Anders spinning over the edge, falling free as his body rocked and shook, his moans echoing off the shower walls. His semen joined Mitchell’s, blending into single pearls caught in the damp curls.

Oddly touched by this, Anders reached out and traced a line on the brunette’s abdomen. He was not aware that he traced the rune _Wunjo._ Bragi had withdrawn completely after his tumble with the giant, but a part of him remained. Anders had drawn the rune for pleasure and joy…

The hand held shower provided some moments of amusement as they rinsed each other clean. Anders sprayed their chests and the rune vanished down the drain, the love that created it remaining behind.

Drying was a slow sweet process that required much touching, kissing and many towels. When they were satisfied and the bathroom was trashed, they assisted one another in putting on the complimentary pale blue bathrobes. When they exited the bathroom they found their lunch sitting just inside the door. There were 4 bottles of chilled Pilzner beer tucked into an ice bucket and a smaller ice bucket with a bottle of Snow Queen vodka. Anders thought he would have to do more to extend the reach of Fenris vodka beyond New Zealand.

Mitchell stared to wheel the cart over to the sofa, but Anders redirected him to the bed.

“I feel like being decadent,” he said as he hopped onto the bed and leaned over to grab a beer. He expertly twisted the top off and took a long swallow. “Showering with you is thirsty work.”

Mitchell opened a beer as well and grinned at him. “But rewarding.”

Anders leaned forward, the bottle extended and Mitchell tapped his against it. “A toast to us,” he said smiling.

Anders returned the smile, his eyes sparkling azure. “And to new beginnings.”

The vampire pulled the lid off of one of the two servers and grinned. “Brilliant, they sent fish and chips.”

Anders leaned over and pulled the lid off the other one. It was a huge burger with fries and all the trimmings. He noted that it was cut in half so they could share. His stomach growled and he knew that Mitchell was going to have to fight him to even get a taste.

“The burger’s mine,” he said a little snappishly.

Mitchell never noticed. “Good, then I get this all to myself. It’s stellar, they even have mushy peas, I thought they’d be too posh.”

He grabbed the platter and set it on the bed in front of him, gracefully going cross-legged and propping his back up with one of the throw pillows. Still grinning, he reached over and lifted a small bowl full of the most revolting green substance Anders had ever seen.

He looked at him in horror. “You’re not actually going to put that in your mouth, are you?”

Mitchell had the spoon in his mouth before the question even registered. “I love this stuff,” he said in happily muffled tones.

He suddenly noticed Anders’ expression and happily opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. “Wanna kiss?”

“You egg!” the god exclaimed, reeling backward, nearly knocking over his beer. “That’s the most digesting thing I’ve ever seen.

“That’s not what you said about my kisses in the shower,” Mitchell teased.

Anders tried not to look directly at him. “You didn’t have green shit all over your tongue then either.”

“’S’not shit,” he protested around a second mouthful. “S’peas.”

“You wait until you get to New Zealand and I’ll make you eat a nice plate of yummy huhu grubs.”

Mitchell washed the peas down with beer. “You eat ‘em?”

“Fuck no!” Anders protested.

“Then it doesn’t count. The rules are that you can only serve me weird food that you actually eat.” Mitchell smiled fetchingly. “What’s this about me going to New Zealand?”

Anders took a huge bite of burger to keep from having to answer. He’d spoken too fast. He looked over at the vampire watching him with a soft look on his face, huge eyes almost golden in the sunlight streaming in the window. He had a little twinge -- conscience? Lust? It wasn’t something he could put a finger on. He’d avoided deep thinking any of this. He was running on what he was feeling at the moment--thought without depth. The god looked at Mitchell and pretended to be very interested in his burger. He wasn’t sure where that statement had come from. He’d been working overtime to confine his thoughts and feelings to the present and not look ahead even by a day. He’d missed the lanky brunette desperately while he was in Norway. One of the thoughts that had raced through his head while they were being pursued was that he didn’t want to die without seeing him again.

Was he falling in love?

He almost choked and sat there red-faced, teary-eyed trying not to look at Mitchell who had been ready to Heimlich him. What the fuck?

“I’m fine,” he gasped, waving away any help. “I can breathe.”

_What I apparently can’t do is chew and think at the same time...not about you._

He looked up to see Mitchell kneeling next to him, lunch forgotten, eyes wide with concern. Anders smiled at him and reached up to cup his face with one hand. The other grasped his shoulder and pulled him into a long slow kiss.

When it broke Mitchell gave him a little smile. “I hope I didn’t taste like green shit.”

“If you are what green shit tastes like then I want to live on it.” Anders chuckled. “How is the normal part of your lunch?”

“It tastes almost as good as you do. Want some?”

Anders couldn’t resist that happy puppy smile. “Sure. We can share.”

He handed over half of his burger, not quite believing that he was actually doing that. He would have sworn two minutes ago that he would have smacked Mitchell for trying to even get a taste. He wasn’t all that crazy about fish and chips but somehow when the brunette leaned over and placed the tip of one piece in his mouth it suddenly became food of the gods...literally.

Anders chewed and swallowed looking thoughtful. “Is there any of that green shit left?”

Mitchell’s eyebrows soared skyward. “A bit.”

“Let me try it.”

“No fucking way!”

“Yes, fucking way.” He cocked his head, one eyebrow raised. “I’m waiting.”

Mitchell handed him the bowl, but he pushed it back. “Nope. Gotta feed it to me.”

“Really?” The brunette’s expression was all over the place from puzzled, to happy, to amused. He finally settled on delight and grinned from ear to ear. He scooped up just the tiniest bit on the spoon and held it out.

“Nope. Can’t use a spoon. That’s cheating.” There was an evil glint in the god’s eyes.

He pondered it for a moment. No spoon...what to use? Mitchell looked at Anders and suddenly understood.

He pushed his lunch tray back and set his beer on the night stand. Slowly he scooped the remaining mushy peas out of the bowl with his finger. Leaning toward Anders he extended his tongue and very very slowly licked them off his finger with sweeps and flicks and a final swirl. He didn’t swallow, but leaned over and kissed the god very sensuously and deeply, Their tongues met and Anders hesitated for a moment at the unusual sensation and texture. The flavor was good, not as good as Mitchell, but little in life was.

The kiss lasted a long time. When Anders leaned back he reached over and picked up a french fry. He held it out to Mitchell, who nibbled it from his fingers. The vampire responded by offering the half a burger, juices trickling in to his cupped palm. The god took a bite, then picked up the sandwich and slowly licked Mitchell’s palm clean.

The vampire purred. “If you keep that up I'm not going to be in the mood to eat.”

“Are you hungry?”

Mitchell nodded and Anders took the burger and the two of them ate it, alternating bites. Fries and chips alternated with sandwich and fish. The vampire was delighted. He'd done many things, but this hadn't been one of them. When he played with his food it had always been a lot deadlier. He shivered as the god licked his fingers and thought that this way was a lot more fun.

He looked at Anders sitting cross-legged, a bit of grease shining at the corners of his mouth, brilliant blue eyes twinkling with mischief and wondered what he would do now. Over the decades Mitchell had fallen in love probably far too many times. He abhorred being alone and sometimes rushed into things—things that turned out badly. The one thing he had never done was to fall in love with a man. The part of him born in the 19th century was unsure of the morality of it. A tiny smile ghosted his lips as he wondered why being with Anders brought up the question of morality when his entire existence was amoral.

He cocked his head watching his partner chew and then took a large swallow of beer. He found everything about Anders appealing. Somehow it was more than lust. It was more than just getting his end away. It was indefinable, elusive and nothing had ever felt more right. He didn't know what to make of the comment about him coming to New Zealand. Was it a given that he would at some point? Did he want to? Did he even want to be thinking about it so early in a relationship? Anders leaned toward him and offered another french fry. He smiled and let his thoughts go. There would be far too much time later for introspection. Right now it was time to love.

Neither of them wanted much more and platters were set aside in favor of desert. To Mitchell's delight the chilled silver domes revealed clouds of mousse in both chocolate and vanilla. He co-opted the chocolate immediately which proved to be fine with Anders who preferred the vanilla with flecks of bean in it.

Anders scooped up a spoonful of chocolate, licked it off the utensil and then leaned forward to capture Mitchell in a kiss. Even the vampire had to admit that this was ever so much better than mushy peas.

They fed each other slowly and wickedly, tongues flicking and teasing, teeth nipping and lips removing every last trace of the mousse. At length Anders leaned over and pulled the tie that held Mitchell's robe, letting it spill open. He put a dab of vanilla mousse on his finger and applied it first to one nipple and then the other. The chill firmed his nipples even harder than they already were. He moaned softly and leaned backward to give access to his chest.

Anders leaned over and flicked the tiny dabs of mousse off with the tip of his tongue, stopping to suck first one nipple and then the other. “You,” he whispered, “are over-dressed.”

Mitchell shrugged out of the robe and then untied the knot at god's waist, leaning over to slide it off of his shoulders, caressing the warm silken skin as he did. It puddled around Anders' waist and he threw it back so that he was sitting on a soft terrycloth cloud of pale blue that nearly matched his eyes. Mitchell decided that if he had his way Anders would dress in no other color. Every time he looked at his partner he was just lost in those huge blue eyes that changed hue with the light or his mood. He swore they were the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Anders’ soul was so often reflected in them that the vampire knew if he needed an insight into what Anders was feeling all he had to do was look into the depths of his eyes for the answer.

Anders looked at Mitchell and held his gaze. The vampire felt his heart melting. When gentle hands reached out to push him back, he reclined and lay there naked in mind and soul. Dark lashes shaded blue eyes for a moment and then smiled.

“You are so beautiful,” the god said softly. A small part of his mind was delighted at just how gorgeous his boyfriend was lying nude on a blue robe against a tan bedspread. He was like a painting come to life. A wee small voice in the back of his mind told him that no matter what else happened in his life he would always remember the wonder of this moment.

Moving carefully and gracefully, Anders straddled his waist, loving the erotic feel of warm skin and soft body hair against his ass and balls. His hands rested on the vampire's chest cupping his pecs, feeling the push of erect nipples against his palms. He rubbed back and forth slowly, losing himself in the sensation. He looked down into Mitchell's eyes. They were sparkling, crinkles forming at the corners as he smiled and stretched out his arms to the god's waist and then slid down over his spread thighs to cup and to hold. He too was reveling in this moment and never wanted it to end.

Anders reached over and picked up the small bowl of vanilla mousse and with both glee and delicacy placed a dab on each of Mitchell's nipples, eyes sparkling with mischief as he watched the vampire shiver as the entire areola of his nipples rose to hard snowcapped peaks. He was so beautiful with the creamy white against the dark of his skin and hair.

Leaning forward with wicked slowness, he licked first one nipple and then the other, rolling his tongue over them and then sucking. He put another dab in the center of Mitchell's chest and then licked it off, checking out of the tops of his eyes that his partner was watching him. He loved putting on a show. Bit by bit he worked his way down, resisting the urge to decorate that lovely umbilical indent. He scooted down as he went until he was straddling the vampire's right thigh. Mitchell was up and hard, his cock jerking in anticipation of the attention his eyes told him he was about to get.

The dollop of mousse on the tip of the brunette's cock drew a moan as the chill bit into the sensitive head feeling perversely erotic. When Anders leaned down to lick it off Mitchell lost it, throwing his head back and crying out. It was all he could do to keep from shooting hard and long. Sensing that he was on the edge, the god held still and let his partner take a breath and come back down a notch. When it was safe he backed off and sat up.

“What do you want, Mitchell?” His voice was low and rough with desire. “Tell me what I can do to please you.”

Mitchell lay quietly with his arm thrown over his face sucking in long breaths to calm himself.

“Please talk to me,” the god begged. “Tell me what you want.”

Slowly Mitchell let his arm drop and looked at Anders, his chocolate eyes gone dark with passion.

“Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”

The god froze. “I...I never...”

Mitchell smiled, “We will do this together. Lube and condoms in the top drawer.” He extended his arm to point to the night stand closest to Anders.

The Kiwi leaned over and fished them out. “I didn't see you put them in there.”

“That's because you were too busy thinking about the shower.”

“Sue me, when you're around I can't think of anything else.” He set the items where he could reach them and leaned forward to kiss the vampire, trapping their erections between them. They rubbed together, one longer and more slender, the other a bit shorter and thicker, perfect representations of their owners. The sensation of contact, the difference in them as well as the difference in temperature was highly erotic.

When the kiss broke Mitchell ran gentle fingers over Anders' face, tracing his cupids bow with a thumb. “You're the most kissable man I've ever met.”

“I could say the same about you. I was never going to do this, you know. And then you have to be sitting there in the pub all gorgeous with that Irish accent. You smiled at me and I was just lost. And look at me now.” His tone was teasing as he leaned in for a tiny kiss.

“Mmm, yes. About to fuck a man,” the vampire whispered, his tone a cross between sassy and erotic.

“Not just a man--John Mitchell...the most beautiful man on the planet.”

“Would you have come with me if I was not so beautiful?”

Anders shook his head. “No. I'm shallow like that. I wouldn't give it up for just anyone.”

Mitchell laughed, “You're an asshole.”

“You have no idea...”

He started kissing Mitchell again sloppily and erotically, starting to build the heat again. He might be a virgin at this but he'd read plenty and the net was full of videos. Practice might make perfect but he had enough information at hand to make him fairly confident now that he'd gotten over the shock of the brunette asking for it. He worked his way down more quickly than before, but he stopped when he reached his partner's cock. He looked at it for a moment and then leaned down to capture it between his lips. He slid down, taking as much in as he could and then gripped the remainder of the shaft and started to make love to it.

His mind drifted back to when it was only something he'd dreamed about. He'd fantasized and thought and looked at video but nothing had prepared him for the incredible turn-on of sucking his lover's cock. Scent, taste, sensation all rolled into an erotic fog that would not let him separate them had he wanted to try. The more he did it the more he wanted to do it. It was fast becoming an addiction...such a sweet obsession. One he was certain he'd never want to be cured of. There was absolutely nothing to compare it to and the response he got was mind blowing.

Mitchell arched upward begging for more, tiny whimpers becoming soft moans that slid into guttural sounds that stirred Anders' own cock. Reluctantly he slid off. He didn't want to finish him this way. He was in control of the situation and, although he loathed admitting it, he loved to be in control. It was safer to be in control—even with a lover.

He straightened up and looked toward a target that was far out of reach. He cocked his head quizzically. “How do I reach it?”

Mitchell chuckled and lifted his hips, smoothly sliding a pillow under them. “Problem solved.”

Anders looked at him and grinned wickedly. “So, it's all up to me now?”

“Mmm, it would appear to be. Let me know if you have any questions.” Mitchell's voice was smoky and thick with desire.

“I don't plan to have any questions...only answers...”

He dragged his tongue down the underside of Mitchell's cock and then down to capture first one testicle and then the other in his mouth, rolling them gently, knowing just how much pressure would feel the best. He slid his tongue down to that mysterious ridge that bisected the perineum. He teased it with the tip of his tongue knowing how exquisitely sensitive it was He'd planned to stop there and explore the rest of his way with his fingers, but he found that it wasn't unpleasant in the least.

The scent was strong; male musk, laden with testosterone. It was one of the most erotic scents he'd ever experienced. He'd always preferred women shaved or landscaped, but he found Mitchell's body hair combined with his scent to be a true aphrodisiac. This was so different and felt so right. Kissing and licking he pressed forward. His partner murmured words of endearment and encouragement, spurring him onward.

He had not done this with a woman and never thought he would ever do it with a man. The smoke covering his mirrors was slowly but surely thinning and blowing away...one wisp at a time.

It felt unique—everything about it was different. It was indescribable; firm ridged flesh that formed a ring with a tender indentation in the middle. The scent and taste were stronger but only because of the enclosed space. There was no squeamishness, nothing but an intense feeling that he was where he should be. If he'd thought about it, Anders might have laughed, but he was too busy experiencing something he'd barely let himself dream about doing.

Mitchell was just lost in the pleasure. The flick and sweep of the hot wet tongue, the scrape of his partner's beard, the strength of the hands holding his legs apart and spreading his cheeks. It all set every nerve to burning and tingling. He moaned when Anders shifted position, from leaning over the top to moving between his spread legs. He was athletic enough to sweep over Mitchell's leg and reposition himself, barely missing a beat. Fingers joined the exploring tongue spreading and probing so gently; sensation piled upon sensation until he couldn't think...he could only feel.

“Please,” Mitchell begged, but Anders knew that it wasn't time. He squirted lube on his fingers and, because he was Anders, directly on the sensitive ring giving the vampire a start before his partner, swirled a finger in a slow circle and then paused at the entrance, pressing slowly and inexorably. It was finally granted entrance and the god lay there watching himself slide it in and out, moving it around in slow easy circles. Making love was one of the few times that the god had utter confidence in himself. He loved to give his partner pleasure and receive it in turn.

He had felt adrift when first asked, but now he was confident that he could do this. He hadn't felt confident a few minutes ago, but now the old Anders was back...well...as much as he was going to allow of that part of him. He smiled to himself as he pleasured his lover. Sometimes reality was as good as the dream.

Anders turned his finger so that it curved upward and moved it slowly and carefully until he located the small round bump. He pressed against it carefully, judging from Mitchell's reaction and noises what he liked. Firm gentle pressure with a “come here” beckoning motion nearly levitated him from the pillow. He called out in what could have been Gaelic. His muscles were clenching so hard that the god held perfectly still to keep from sending him over the edge. He pushed down begging for more, so gently and wickedly the god gave it to him.

When he was loose enough Anders inserted a second finger, playing carefully, sliding, pulling, twisting he teased the sphincter into loosening up. When he could slide them in and out easier, he heard Mitchell chanting, “Fuck me...fuck me...please fuck me...”

Anders got in position, unrolled a condom over his own erection. He'd been ignoring it and his touch made it twitch and send bolts of electricity rocketing deep into his abdomen. He looked at Mitchell open and waiting for him. The vampire was the one who looked like a god, golden and sleek, ribbons of dark curls spread against a snow white pillow. He looked up at the Kiwi, his eyes a mix of warm golds and black passion. Anders froze for a moment filling his eyes and his heart with the beautiful Irishman.

He positioned himself, carefully guiding his lubricated cock to the center of Mitchell's being. He pushed and was resisted. Words in Gaelic urged him on, needing no translation. Anders pushed and suddenly was through the ring of muscle. They moaned together gutteral and harsh—Mitchell needing and Anders responding.

Watching his partner's face, he continued to push into him until his length was buried hotter and tighter than he'd ever imagined possible. The ring of muscle constricted him, further in it was softer and different from what he'd known. He thrust twice for his own pleasure and then began to explore. He found that long slow strokes were pure pleasure while short harder ones hit that pleasure center directly. He encircled Mitchell's cock with his fist, letting the lube slick its length before moving up and down in synch with his thrusts.

Mitchell stared at Anders, memorizing every line, every expression. Those crystal blue eyes were no longer cool, they reflected his lust, the pupils expanding to darken them with passion. They were feeding off each other, pulling energy and emotion then giving it back. It was a powerful cycle, each building on the other. The brunette laid bare, soft and compliant beneath the assault of a god. Anders moved into him slowly at first, then picking up the rhythm as they caught fire.

When the blaze soared, the vampire was no longer soft, his muscular frame arched, hips lifting from the pillow as he demanded more. Anders, toned muscles rising with him, strong arms holding his legs and ass, pulling him firmly up for each downward stroke. The moans and sobs grew louder, harsher, more full of need and want. Gentleness gave way to passion. Gentle thrusts turned to thunder as muscle met muscle. They met as two men—warriors on the field of passion, both determined to give their best and to get the best. It was a dance, a battle, a war where sides blurred and partners became one.

Mitchell finished a few strokes before Anders. He threw his head back and cried out again and again as he spurted long hot jets onto his belly and chest. His finish triggered the Kiwi, who slammed into him and then tucked his head forward, every muscle straining as it felt as if his very soul emptied into the vampire.

Anders nearly toppled onto his partner. Strong arms reached out to receive him and hold him. The condom was quickly dealt with, tissues were handed out and disposed of. Then the two of them lay clasped in one another's arms, hearts beating together, breath coming in gasps and lips joined as they sought to prolong the moment.

As they relaxed, the Kiwi lay atop Mitchell, who held him tenderly, kissing him gently on top of his head while running long fingers through his hair, petting him and loving him. Anders nestled against the Irishman's chest, content and at peace with himself and the world. So much had changed since he'd first set foot in Bristol. He'd actually been to fucking Asgard and outrun and outsmarted the guardians of Yggdrasil. He was laying in the arms of his lover, the most beautiful man he'd ever met. He felt safe, a rare feeling and one he was cherishing.

He snuggled closer, kissing the soft skin beneath his cheek. “You know, I'm an PR man and I don't think I have any words good enough to describe what just happened.”

Mitchell chuckled and it sounded like a rumble of thunder deep in his chest. “I'm glad you liked it. I thought it was pretty good.”

Anders nipped him sharply and the vampire gave a surprised squeak of pain. “Pretty good? I just fucked you into next week and it's only “pretty good?”

Mitchell rubbed the nipped skin ruefully. He'd have to watch teasing the Kiwi. In this relationship he wasn't the only one who bit. “I was kidding. Watch it with the teeth, will ya?”

“Don't disparage my performance then,” Anders snarked, only half kidding. Sex was one thing he did well and was proud of. His insecurities were showing and he hated being vulnerable. He ducked his head against the furry chest, suddenly ashamed at himself for lashing out.

Surprised by the anger in his partner's tone, Mitchell quickly placated him. “I was only teasing. You'd have to be deaf and blind not to know you drove me crazy. I came so hard I feel empty.”  
He tipped Anders' face up and bent to kiss him tenderly. “You were brilliant, honest. I don't know why you'd think otherwise.”

The blond was stiff for a moment and then relaxed into the kiss. Mitchell kissed him for a long time, varying between soft feather kisses, deeper tongue kisses and sucking on his perfect lips. His partner was almost purring. He loved the attention and leaned into it asking for more. Needing the reassurance that he had been good and that the vampire was satisfied.

Mitchell continued to pet him, kissing him now and again. He loved to take care of people. Ever since he was a child he'd had a need to care for anything hurt or scared. He dragged home an assortment of animals in various states of disrepair. Fortunately his mother was as kind hearted as he and took them all in, nursing the ones she could help and comforting her son as he wept over those she couldn't. It was why he hadn't hesitated to sacrifice himself to save his men.

He winced a little as he thought about what had happened since then. Herrick had twisted everything good in him and somehow how he'd been weak enough to allow it, to revel in it. Maybe this man in his arms was another chance at redemption. Anders had made it very clear that he needed Mitchell. And Mitchell needed to be needed. For Anders he could stay on the wagon for good. All he ever needed was someone to take care of his heart so that he was free to take care of his needs. He could withstand the _hunger_ if he had someone to help him be strong. He reached down and pulled the sheet and a blanket up to cover them both, savoring the Kiwi's body heat.

Anders, for his part, was thoroughly enjoying being cuddled. It was a relief to just let someone else be strong. He'd gone to therapy once when Mike had practically dragged him and he was aware of his issues because of the scars left by his childhood. Mike had finally decided it was a waste of money. Anders, on the other hand, gained an understanding of why he had a tendency to be a prick and decided he was okay with it. He was also okay with being here with the lanky brunette who he'd just fucked into a coma. He heaved a sigh and fell asleep.

When Mitchell woke the sun was setting, filing the room with a golden light. He lay quietly and looked at his sleeping partner for a long time. Anders was curled up on his side smiling in his sleep, dimples shadowed in the fading light. The vampire had no doubt that he was in love. It was crazy, but no crazier than the other times. He didn't let himself think about the other times, or the fact that he never seemed to learn not to launch himself headfirst into a relationship without checking the depth. He needed Anders. He knew they could make it work. He felt that he had to make it work...somehow...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is about another 11,000 words to go in this story. I'm sorry, complain to the boys they are very long winded. It's too important a story to rush.
> 
> I'm nearly done with it and it should be up within the week...then it is time to start the final story in this trilogy. Thanks for bearing with me through this story. I do love these boys and the do make my life more interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the next to the last piece (chapter?) of what was supposed to be maybe a 20,000 word story. Working out a relationship doesn't go as quickly as I'd hoped -- not with these two. The final chapter is about 3/4 done and has enough sex in it to make up for this one. I hope. :)

The god was still sleeping soundly. Mitchell reached out to caress Anders, but let his hand drop before it was halfway there. He didn't want to wake the Kiwi, to interrupt whatever pleasant dream he was having. He wished that it could always be like this—the two of them alone, isolated from the craziness and hate of the world, living on an island where the only thing that mattered was pleasing each other. 

At length the pressure of his bladder sent him padding quietly to the bathroom. He was sticky in places, flakey in others and thoroughly in need of a shower. He thought about waiting for Anders, but decided that this was a cleanup that was best done privately. He turned the water on, waited until it was hot enough and stepped in, sliding the glass door shut and turning his face to the spray.

He liked the water hot. He was always chilled. He was surprised that Anders hadn't mentioned it. Many of his lovers had and more than a few were bothered by it, even if they never knew the reason for the chill. The blond seemed to just take him for what he was without question. He soaped a cloth and thoroughly lathered his chest and then lower, scrubbing off the stickiness of the mousse and the lube and the flakes of semen. 

He had removed the shower head and was rinsing himself in private places when the door to the shower slid open.

“You started without me.” The tone was slightly accusatory.

“I was sticky. You got a problem with that?” 

“Not since I was the cause of it,” Anders said, stepping in and sliding the door shut behind him.

Mitchell gave him a blast of water directly on the chest and the Kiwi squealed. “Are you fucking trying to boil me?”

The vampire redirected the spray. “Sorry, I like it hot.”

“I noticed,” came the cheeky reply, “but I didn't know it extended to showers.” He looked ruefully at his chest. “I think I'm blistered.”

Mitchell turned the temperature down. “Sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Nothing a kiss can't fix.”

Mitchell drew him in for a long slow kiss. While he had Anders in his arms he soaped his hand and slid it over the Kiwi's shoulders and down his back, washing and caressing. When the kiss broke, he paid the same attention to the other side, smiling at his partner's pleasure. When he came up hard in the vampire's hand, Mitchell grinned and rinsed him off.

“Nope. You have to feed me before you can have your way with me again. I'm starving.”

“We just ate.” Anders teased, loathe to admit that the response had been purely physical. He was too sated to be horny.

“You ate, but all I had was mushy peas and a few bites of fish. I didn't even get to finish my beer.” Mitchell tried to look petulant but wasn't able to maintain it, the twinkle in his eyes giving him away.

The Kiwi took the shower nozzle from him and sprayed his chest and then Mitchell's crotch, smirking as his partner jumped at the blast of water. The vampire wrested it away from him and grabbed him in a wrestling hold.

“I'm gonna shove this up yer arse!” 

Anders who had actually been a wrestler in high school, slid easily out of his grip. “Not if I shove it up yours first!” He lost his grip on the handle and sprayed himself square in the face. 

Mitchell burst out laughing. “Can't tell my arse from your face, mate?” 

Anders blinked away the water that stung his eyes, his expression one of surprise and hurt. Mitchell, wiped away the water and pulled the smaller man into an embrace. Smiling down at him he said, “Arse or face, I love kissing either one.”

Anders had been ready to say something rude, but it somehow slipped away as he looked up into those twinkling brown eyes. What was it about this man that absolutely killed the snark in him? Ripostes died aborning, sass never made it to the tip of his tongue. He stood tiptoe and slid into Mitchell's embrace. Long arms engulfed him, pulling him close and holding him safe. 

Safe.

If he was safe he didn't have to parry with words. He didn't have to always be on the defensive, ready to field hurtful comments. He was safe with Mitchell. He snuggled against the taller man's chest feeling as if he'd finally come home.

Drying each other was just plain fun. They're moved out to the bathroom where the air was cooler, taking a heap of towels with them. There were so many places to attend to...places that invited touches and kisses and caresses. Neither of them had played like this before. It was a new sensation to just be totally relaxed and at ease enough to be silly. 

Mitchell stood there draped in a towel Anders had thrown over his head. His face was obscured and he was laughing. “Is this a good look for me? Shall I go out to dinner dressed just like this?”

Anders grinned. “Well they may not know who you are but I think they will notice your dick.”

The vampire pulled the towel off and popped the Kiwi lightly with it. “Spoilsport. Here I was set to start a new fashion trend.”

“I think,” Anders said, snatching the towel before it could be used again, “that it would make it damned hard for you to eat, but everyone who sees you would be ordering off the menu.”

Mitchell turned and then turned again. “I'm not too skinny? I was always a beanpole and I can't see myself to know how I look now.”

His partner stopped for a moment looking quizzical. “What do you mean you can't see yourself?”

Startled, Mitchell's eyebrows shot up. “I...uh...mean that I can't see myself like others do. To me I always look as skinny as when I was a kid.”

Anders chuckled. “Well, I think you filled out pretty good. Hairy though...kinda hairy.”

“Look who's talking, Mr. Peppercorn.”

The Kiwi looked down at his chest and grinned. “I do have the curliest chest hair on any white man.”

“I like it. It's unique.” Mitchell ran his hand over Anders' chest, teasing the little knots of hair with his nails. 

The god leaned into the sensation, enjoying it for what it was. He'd finally found someone he could be comfortable around and with. There were no judgments, no wisecracks, no hints he should be taller, or better hung—just acceptance of what he was. Better yet, there was an appreciation of what he was. 

When Mitchell's fingers strayed to his nipples, he stepped back. “I thought you were hungry.”

That wicked grin again. “I am, but they are so pink and so tempting.”

“Well, resist that temptation long enough for me to call room service will you?”

The vampire's nose wrinkled. “I thought maybe we could go out. It's early and we could see a little bit of London. There's a favorite restaurant of mine I'd love to take you to.” George was going to kill him for spending the last of his money, but he wanted to do something nice for this amazing man he'd found. “It's not all that far from here.”

Anders considered it and then shrugged--why not, it wasn't like they had to stay hidden away. No one knew him here so he was free to move around as he pleased. “That sounds great, but I really do think we should get dressed first.”

“You really are a killjoy...”

Even Anders with his eye to dressing sharply had to admit that Mitchell cut a handsome figure in the black jeans and T-shirt with a black jacket that had a double-row of snaps. The fingerless gloves had made a reappearance. He thought to comment on them, but decided they looked sexy. He slid easily into a grey suit but decided to forgo the tie. He picked up the jacket and then hung it back up.

Mitchell noticed and asked, “Not wearing your jacket?” He smiled and said, “I think you look sexy in a suit. Never thought I'd say that to anyone, but you were born to wear Armani.”

The god thought he looked pretty darn good in a suit too, but felt a blush rising anyway. It was nice to be appreciated. “Ok, I'll wear it, if you don't mind.”

“I'd mind more if you didn't, babe.”

Anders' hand froze with the jacket suspended in mid-air. “What did you call me?”

Mitchell looked confused. “I dunno. Babe, I think. Why? Don't you like to be called that?”

Anders looked at him blue eyes blazing with intensity. “Yeah, I do. It's the first time you've called me that.”

“It is? I've been calling you that in my head for days. I guess I just never said it. I didn't realize it meant something to you.” 

“I didn't realize it meant something to me either. Coming from you, I guess it does.” he admitted.

Mitchell was at his side and drew him in for a sweet soft kiss. “I'm glad it means something coming from me.” 

He stepped back and took Anders' jacket, holding it out so that he could slide into it. He stepped up behind the god and pulled him into a gentle hug, nuzzling his neck. “You mean something to me.” Anders purred, snuggling into the caress. “You mean a lot to me.”

They broke the embrace before it heated up any farther. Anders was grinning as he called the front desk and requested a cab. As they left the room Mitchell took a detour to a cleaning cart that was sitting in the hall. He stuck his head into the open room and smiled at the maid. She looked at him and smiled back. It only took moments for her to promise that she would deliver fresh towels to their room. He winked at her and she giggled.

The cab was waiting for them as they came down. The concierge was still on duty and nodded politely to them as they passed. Mitchell acknowledged him while Anders breezed on by. Once in the cab Mitchell became approximately twelve years old. He gave the cabby the address and then elaborated on the restaurant and the neighborhood. “You'll just love Volare, it's above a pretty good burger place, but the whole neighborhood is just...well...charming I guess is the right word even if it sounds stupid. There's all kinds of places to eat and buy stuff. I found it one night and used to go there before I moved to Bristol. It's like it’s off a tourist brochure.”

Anders was smiling as he listened to his companion sing the praises of a small London suburb. He'd usually avoided places like this back home, preferring mainstream upscale restaurants. I mean, who wants to eat above a burger joint? But he was enjoying Mitchell's enthusiasm, so why spoil the fun?

They pulled up in front of Volare and after Anders paid for the cab, Mitchell escorted him up the stairs opening the door for him. He was surprised at how nice it was and how upscale considering its moderate location. The place was small and his first reaction was that it was one of the nicest coziest places he'd ever been. The vanilla and cranberry color scheme was relaxing and the candles on every table and even on the windowsill made it look comfortable.  
They were seated quickly with gracious smiles and welcomes and found a wine list in their hands almost immediately followed moments later by a menu. 

“What wine do you prefer?” Anders asked looking over the impressive list.

Mitchell didn't quite meet his eyes. “To be honest...I usually order t'house wine.”

The god thought about it for a moment. He always drank the finest wine on the menu, but usually he was trying to impress someone when he was dining. Sometimes, maybe he was even trying to impress himself. “You know,” he said softly, “The house wine is usually the best choice. They pick it for a reason.”

Mitchell looked up surprised. “Really? I always just felt cheap when I ordered it.”

There was a time, about a week ago, when Anders would have agreed with anyone who'd said that. Actually, he still would...if they weren't Mitchell. He couldn't remember the last time he'd drunk the house wine, now he couldn't wait to order it. He looked around at the other diners smiling and chatting, just enjoying their meals. He could feel himself relax, the tension he'd gotten so used to carrying drained from him, letting him sit comfortably. He always felt that he had to look perfect in public, especially around his brothers. There were always judging eyes, but here in this tiny haven there was only Mitchell.

He looked up and saw his companion watching him. When their eyes met, Mitchell's warmed and glinted with good humor. “It's nice here, isn't it?”

“It's better than nice. I'm glad you suggested coming here.” He reached out and took Mitchell's hand, squeezing it firmly and not releasing it. He noted that Mitchell had taken his gloves off. “I've been meaning to ask you why you wear those gloves all the time, well most of the time.”

“When I was a kid my left hand got crushed in an accident and there wasn't so much money, you know...for a doctor and all, so it never really healed right. My knuckles hurt when they get cold.”

Anders frowned. “I thought England had national health care since just after the war.”

Before Mitchell had to reply the waiter returned. They were still holding holding hands and he glanced down, saw their embrace and smiled. He looked at Anders with approval that continued through the order of the house wine and turning ordering of dinner over to his companion. Lasagna was just coming out of the oven and sounded perfect. Two house salads and fresh breadsticks were also quickly ordered. Their wine was delivered with a flourish and more approving smiles.

Anders took a sip. It was delicious, full-bodied and fruity, perfect to go with the salads that magically appeared and were slid smoothly in front of them. “The wine is perfect,” he said smiling at Mitchell, “and you sure can't fault the service.”

“They have a lot of really fancy things, but I prefer old fashioned food, I guess. I'm glad you like the wine.”

“It's almost as good as the company.” He chased a cherry tomato around, caught it, popped it in his mouth and bit down. To his horror it squirted juice nearly across the table.

Mitchell started to giggle and then to laugh. “Awesome, mate. I don't think I can top that.”

Anders was beet-red with embarrassment, but the vampire reached out to squeeze his hand. “Those tomatoes are tricky bastards.” 

As he realized that Mitchell really did think it was funny and wasn't judging him, his embarrassment faded and he smiled back, dimples accenting his relief.

“My god you're handsome,” the Irishman said in a breathy whisper. “I don't know what you see in me.”

Anders looked at him, startled. “And I've been thinking of it the other way around. What does a man like you want with a stuffed shirt who's afraid to let anyone know who he is?”

“The same as you want with a scruffy hospital cleaner, I guess.” He stopped talking not sure where to go from there. He hadn't told Anders what he did for a living and now he wished he'd kept his bloody mouth shut. Talk about being outclassed... He ducked his head and stuffed forkful of salad into his mouth.

The Kiwi just sat there silent. A hospital cleaner? He never dated that far down the food chain. No, it had always been the best he could get. Stunning blonds mostly, with big tits and brains enough to travel in better circles but not enough to challenge. They looked good on his arm and there was damn little pillow talk. There was sex and kink with orgasms that left him drained but not sated. His top drawer dates were everything Anders wanted and nothing at all that he needed.

He took a sip of his wine. “So where do you work?” 

“Huh?”

“What hospital do you work in?” Anders speared a wad of spinach leaves and paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “The hospital; which one is it? I imagine the work is pretty interesting.”

Mitchell swallowed, not sure what to say. This wasn't at all what he'd anticipated. “Uh..I work at Bristol Royal Infirmary. I don't know that I'd call what I do interesting, exactly.” Now he understood what that phrase 'deer in the headlights' really meant. How the fuck was he supposed to make mopping floors and cleaning up puke “interesting?” Worse, how was he supposed to explain that he took the job of cleaner because he could be invisible there, just another working stiff in the crowd with no one really noticing him.

“S'not very interesting, really. I took it because it was the first thing open and the hours are good. The pay sucks, but I'm looking around. I'm...uh...evaluating my options.” 

Anders nodded. “Keeping your options open is a good thing.” He wasn't about to say that he'd half to be nearly dead to enter a hospital. The places seriously creeped him out. They were too full of sick people.

Glad to be let off the hook, Mitchell took a sip of his wine. “So what is it that you do?”

“I have a public relations company,” Anders answered smoothly. “It's not big, but it's growing.” Internally he winced knowing that it would only take one new client to double his work load.

Blessedly the main course arrived and their wine glasses were refilled. It tasted as good as it smelled and conversation came secondary to eating. When they were done, their waiter brought the dessert menu. Mitchell had never really had the extra money to get dessert and he suddenly realized that upscale desserts were written in another language. What the hell were “Pistachio glazed profiteroles” anyway?

Anders was leaning toward the Grand Marnier flaming crème brulee when he heard Mitchell wistfully ask the waiter if they had anything chocolate. 

“You know, I'm in the mood for chocolate as well.” He looked at the waiter. “Would it be possible to order off the menu?” He was prepared to use Bragi but it proved unnecessary.

Their waiter smiled and nodded. “For you gentlemen, anything...”

Their waiter returned shortly and set a small plate in front of each of them. He dropped his voice so that only the two of them could hear him. “For the lovers, chocolate...the food of romance. White chocolate Bavarois with our pastry chef's special chocolate sauces. Enjoy. ”

There before them were beautifully crafted deserts with a creamy white fluff of Bavarian cream artfully garnished by glistening sweeps and swirls of both dark and milk chocolate. “Oooh...” Mitchell whispered. “It's too beautiful to eat.”

“But that would break the chef's heart so you must enjoy it...and each other.” The waiter smiled and departed leaving them to the glories of chocolate.

Mitchell pulled his wallet out to pay, but Anders out maneuvered him and took it. “But I wanted to make this my treat,” he protested.

Anders smiled at him, “And I appreciate it, but I'm not the one paying for any of this. It's a business expense and a client is picking up the tab.”

Mitchell frowned. “You're charging a client for all of this?”

The Kiwi signed the receipt and left a nice tip with extra added in for the chocolate and the approval. “Yup, and the client is, in turn, charging someone else with really deep pockets, so no worries, mate. It's covered.” He started to give him the patented Anders smile and then changed to one softer and warmer. “Honest, it's not costing anything and because she sent me clear to fucking Norway, the client told me to have a bit of a holiday.” 

Okay, so he was lying through his Norse god teeth and Agnetha was going to have a stroke when she got the bill, but his little trip had damned near killed him so she was just going to have to suck it up. He'd more than had it with what passed as his family. After what she'd put him through as a child she owed him a few days of happiness.

Anders had suggested calling a cab, but Mitchell said there was a nice little pub around the corner about a block down, so they descended the stairs and went out into the night. It was fully dark, the streetlights doing little to alleviate the shadows. The vacant field across the street made it seem even darker. There was a chill in the air and Anders was glad he'd worn his jacket. He noted that Mitchell had put his fingerless gloves back on. He had the urge to take that injured left hand and hold it to keep it warm. 

He was about to ask if it would be ok when two men stepped out of the shadows and watched them. When they didn't continue up the street Anders moved a step closer to Mitchell. He was about to say something when the bigger of the two stepped in front of Mitchell, blocking their way. He had broad shoulders and wore rough clothes like a laborer. A toothpick hung from the corner of his mouth.

He smiled, but there was no humor in it. “You're not welcome in London anymore, Mitchell. You keep your nose out of our business and preach to the choir up in Bristol, but don't be bringing your shit o'wer here. We don't want it.”

“Didn't ask you to want it,” Mitchell said tersely, turning to face him. “Now let us by.” 

Anders was decidedly uncomfortable, but he straightened his shoulders and stepped up next to Mitchell. Normally, he preferred to leave fighting to others, but if it came to it he still held a black belt in Karate and could handle himself. The odds weren't bad and he knew they could walk away from this in good shape. 

The bigger man looked over his shoulder at the other. “Tommy, do you think I should let him by, him and his poncy date?” Without waiting for an answer he turned back to Mitchell. “I knew you was dry but I didn't know it turned you in'ta a fag. Herrick would'a been so proud. And that pretty boy is going to back you up. Isn't that sweet. Does he know what you have planned for him later, ya fucking poof? Does he know what happens when you fall off the wagon?”

Mitchell's look was poisonous. “You don't want to tangle with me, mate.”

“It's two of us against you, even if you are John Mitchell. You never know what we might have up our sleeve. Maybe even a stake.” He looked at his partner and nodded. The smaller man angled around so that he was flanking Mitchell. “Mebbe we'll just take care a'you and have pretty boy here to ourselves. Whadda ya think about that? I'll bet he tastes sweet. When we drink him dry we'll raise a toast to you.”

“I think you're drunk or stupid, or both and should run along back to your nanny before she misses you,” Mitchell said quietly.

Anders was getting decidedly nervous. It was painfully obvious that there was a lot he didn't know about Mitchell and that it was dark and scary. The thugs were saying things that didn't make sense. They were making threats that were ridiculous. He rose on the balls of his feet prepared for the attack that seemed imminent. The smaller man noted his move and caught his attention. When Anders looked at him he made a kissy face and then winked.

Mitchell took a step toward the Kiwi. He lowered his voice. “When I tell you—run!”

“Telling the human to run away isn't going to save him, you piece of shite. You're too fuckin' cocky. You just think you can take both me and Tommy. You need to be sent back to Herrick with your tail between yer legs.” He spat the toothpick at Mitchell. “He needs a message to keep his dogs away from London.” 

Mitchell smiled at the big man. “Haven't you heard? Management’s changed. I don't answer to Herrick anymore.”

He took a step forward and Mitchell lashed out to grab him by the throat. He turned his head and to his horror Anders saw that his eyes were jet black and terrifying. White fangs flashed as he yelled, “Run, Anders!” 

Mitchell dug into the throat in his fingers but a kidney punch from the smaller one made him loosen his grip and he was shoved back clutching air. He lunged forward meeting the bigger man head-on, hitting him as hard and he could, but the vampire had a good five or six stone on Mitchell and slammed him into the side of the building. Mitchell cried out in pain and lashed out, his fist making contact with the other vampire's nose, splattering it across his face. He followed it up with a hard kick to the groin toppling the bigger man toward Anders. The god stumbled trying to get out of the way and the second vampire reached out to grab him, easily fending off his self-defense moves. He found himself thrown against the building as if he weighed nothing. He looked up to see his attacker snarling at him, mouth full of fangs and eyes the same burning ebony as Mitchell's. The fangs descended and he thought he screamed but he wasn't sure.

Suddenly the vampire was no longer above him, Mitchell grabbed him and threw him away from Anders. The bigger one picked himself up from the sidewalk and charged past Anders taking Mitchell down under his bulk. The second one joined the attack and Anders saw punches land. There was a grunt of pain and then a low inhuman snarl. The blond was scrabbling backwards desperately trying to get away even though he was pressed against the building and there was no place to go. 

Mitchell shoved his way out from under his assailants and looked at Anders with obsidian eyes and a mouth distorted by fangs. “Run! Jaysus, ru...!” His words were cut off by a punch and he drove those fangs upward trying to find a vulnerable spot.

Shaken out of his paralysis Anders ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran from the carnage and from Mitchell and from everything he thought he'd found in the last week. He ran until he couldn't breathe and then curled up in the shadows next to a trash can shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. Tears misted his eyes and his hands clenched into fists so tightly that the nails dug half-moon craters in his palms.

Mitchell took another punch to the kidneys and then managed to flip his attacker and find his throat with his left hand. The knuckles were weaker, but with his supernatural strength mere bone and gristle were no match and when he closed his fist he was holding what had been a throat. His opponent had only a moment to realize that he was in serious trouble before Mitchell stood up, grasped his head in both hands and wrung his neck. 

Picking up, the vampire he carried him into the shadows and then darted to the empty field. It was short work to lay the one named Tommy next to him. Mitchell looked around and spotted a broken board. Snapping it easily over his knee he knelt between the two and drove both stakes home. With a satisfying crunch of bone the two would-be murders found true death. When he stood they were already returning to the earth leaving him to deal with what they had done.

Mitchell stood silently amid the ruins of the new life he'd hoped for. If he could have killed them a second time he would have done so. He had to find Anders, but first he had to clean himself up.

* * * * *

When he stopped crying, Anders got out his handkerchief and blotted his eyes. He knew that he was going to look wrecked, he always had after he wept. His eyes would be bloodshot and red-rimed, his skin puffy and disgusting. What a wonderful fucking way to end an evening.

He got up, dusted himself off and looked around. As far as he could tell he was alone. He jogged across the street where it was brighter and hid in the shadows while he placed a call to the hotel. One Bragi whisper later and the receptionist had rushed to dispatch a cab to pick him up. 

He went straight to the desk and prodded Bragi again. “My roommate is not to be given access. Re-key the room this instant.”

The receptionist gave him the level blank stare that Bragi's words caused and handed him a new key. “Have a good evening, Mr. Johnson.”

“Fuck you,” was his reply. 

Mitchell's gloves were soaked with blood. He stripped them off and dropped them into a trash bin. Regretfully he also threw away his jacket, starting to shiver almost immediately. He wiped the blood off of his hands as best he could and ducked into a sundries shop run by an Indian couple. He thought briefly about asking them if he could use the loo, but decided against it, they looked too frightened of him. They watched nervously as he picked up a sweatshirt, two large bottles of water and a roll of paper towels. He steeled himself and dug his fingernail into his arm opening a cut of about two inches. He took his purchases to the front and paid for them, being sure to show the proprietor the cut and bemoan his own clumsiness. 

Once outside he stepped into the shadows where he scrubbed his hands with the water and wiped the blood off. He wiped his face, wincing as he realized one or maybe both of them got in a few more shots at him than he'd first thought. His whole body ached, but he ignored it. He'd had worse. He pulled on the sweatshirt, tucked his purchases into the bag and threw the lot into a bin down the street. Then he called a cab.

When he entered the lobby he saw the receptionist look at him and frown. His heart sunk and he stepped back outside. He watched until she was busy with two unhappy businessmen and then used his heightened speed to zip across the lobby and take the stairs to the second floor. He hopped the elevator, exiting at their floor and then hurrying down the hall to the room. A swipe of his card confirmed his fear that it had been cancelled. 

He stood there with his head bowed feeling defeated when there was a soft sound next to him. It was the maid with the towels. 

“You okay?” She had a concerned look on her face.

He nodded. “I met a bad man. He looks worse than I do.”

“You need to get into room?” He nodded. She smiled at him and swiped her master-pass card, tripping the lock.

“You want doctor?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No, I'm ok, just need a bath and sleep.”

She patted his arm gently, “You take care.”

“Thank you, he whispered and slipped into the room.

Anders was standing with his back to the door throwing clothes into his suitcase. The vampire watched him sadly for a few moments and then cleared his throat. He was not prepared for the Kiwi's reaction. 

Anders' eyes went wide with fear and he fell over the bed as he tried to get away. He pushed himself backwards until he was pressed up against the dresser. “No, please...” His breath was choked with fear, his hands upraised palms out begging for mercy.

Mitchell immediately backed up, dropping his hands to his sides, then clasping them in back. He slumped looking smaller and harmless and very very sad. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

The Kiwi used the dresser to help push himself upright. “What are you? What the fuck ARE you?”

“I'm a vampire,” Mitchell said, tears stinging his eyes and strangling his words. “I won't hurt you. I promise...I won't hurt you.”

“There's no such thing as vampires!”

The Irishman hung his head. “Yes there are,” he said softly. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but...”

“I trusted you!” The words were raw with anger and hurt. He moved around the dresser so he could put more distance between them. “You betrayed me!” 

The words cut deep into Mitchell's heart. He'd thought a lot had happened, but betrayal hadn't crossed his mind. Once again he'd taken something good and turned it to shite. All he did was hurt people. He should have known better than to try again. He should have known...

The tears came then, heavy and hard. They streamed down Mitchell's face unchecked. He stood looking at Anders, the only sounds were the sobs he was trying to choke back. He made no attempt to move. It was as if he were frozen in place. He had betrayed others and this was his punishment—to be in their place—to know how it felt. He felt his heart shatter in his chest and then crash to his feet in shards of misery. He swayed, barely able to stand.

Anders looked at him coldly. He had started to open up—to give his heart and to what...this monster...a creature of ebony eyes, gleaming fangs and death? Was he the next to be held aloft and then flung into the street like trash, or slashed and drunk from? Was all this to whet the monster's appetite so that when he tore the blond's throat open it would taste the sweeter?

“I trusted you.”

It was only a whisper, but it rang with the thunder of a canon in the silent room.

Mitchell looked at him, streaming eyes dark with pain. “I didn't betray your trust. I told you to run. I protected you.”

He took a step toward Anders and then stopped. He extended his hands and then let them drop limply to his sides. “I would have died to protect you...I would have died...”

Anders wanted to believe, but there was too much pain behind him, too long a history of betrayal. 

“And then at what point would you have tired of having a human toy and killed me?” There was fire in his eyes, the brilliant aqua turning sapphire. “Drink him dry, I believe was the term.”

“No!”

“Tell me you've never killed a lover. TELL ME!”

Mitchell took a step forward, but Anders backed up. “Stay the fuck away from me!” His faced was twisted with rage and fear, the beauty of his features lost in anger. “Just TELL ME!”

The vampire shook his head and began to speak quietly. “My name is John Mitchell. I was born in Dublin in 1893. I have had many lovers. I swear on my mother's grave that I have never killed one of them.”

Anders snorted. “And I'm supposed to believe that?”

Mitchell held his eyes and nodded ever so slightly. “I have killed. I have sinned beyond any priest's absolution. But I swear to you now that I have never killed a lover.” 

He took a deep breath and then released it. “I am a murderer. But I am not a liar.”

One hand raked the curls out of his eyes and then fell to his side. “I have only the truth to give you, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

Anders was starting to believe, but it made him no less uncomfortable to be in the vampire's presence. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Mitchell's laugh was brittle. “And I suppose I should say, ‘Hi my name's Mitchell and I'm a vampire, can I buy you drink?’”

“I suppose that wouldn't be the best idea,” Anders agreed. 

“Can I get my things?” Mitchell asked. “I will get my stuff and leave. I promise I won't hurt you.”

The Kiwi nodded and moved into the sitting area. “Have you murdered many people?” Even he couldn’t believe he asked, but somehow he had to know. 

Mitchell stopped putting his clothing into his bag. How could he say, 'more than you've met?' He nodded sadly. “There is a madness that comes with being turned...an addiction. It's worse than crack or heroin addiction because there is no such thing as too much. Eventually those can kill you but this can't, you just keep going and on destroying your soul and everyone around you.”

He looked at the horror on Anders' face and dropped his head in shame. “I have no one to blame but myself. I agreed to be turned to keep others from dying, but once the hunger hit I was lost. I was the monster you fear now. I had a master, one who is more twisted than you can imagine and he kept me chained to him by the addiction.”

“Where is he now?” Anders asked.

Mitchell shrugged. “I killed him.”

He put down his bag and turned to face the blond. “He wanted to unite the vampires to destroy humans...to enslave them. He wanted to watch the world burn and the streets run red with human blood.”

He paced back and forth in front of the dresser making no attempt to approach Anders. “I couldn't let him do that. There's been so much death.” The tears were starting again and he scrubbed them away angrily, the motion pushing his sweatshirt up to show the purple bruises on his forearms. “I couldn't let him hurt anyone else. Oh jaysus...there's been so much pain and death. It had to stop somewhere.”

“Did you love him?” Anders whispered.

“Love him? Herrick? Fuck no! I hated him—he was the monster other monsters are afraid of.” Mitchell spat as if the very name had a vile taste. “I should have killed him long ago.”

“Why didn't you?”

“Shit! Fuck! Because there's a bond with the one who creates you. I don't know how to begin to explain it. They have power...no...they have control. Pure and utter control over you and your mind. They can tell you things that seem right even though down in your soul you are screaming that it's a lie.” He looked at Anders and then dropped his eyes to the floor. “I should have died with my men.”

Anders took a couple of steps toward him and then stopped. “What men? What are you talking about?”

“It was November 21st, 1917, the Battle of Cambrai. We were going t’be heroes and went in thinking we couldn't die,” Mitchell said wryly. “The fighting was so bad I was the highest ranking member of my company left and I was only a lance corporal...and that only for a month. I didn't know shite and the men were looking to me to keep them alive.” He drew a ragged breath and sat down on the edge of the bed before his legs gave out.

“We got hit again and most were killed outright, some were wounded, but we were in bad shape. I was buried under my mate, Rory, and then Herrick came along. For some reason he wanted me to go willingly and he promised to spare what was left of my men if I would let him bite me. At least that's what he told me. I don't remember it.”

“Did he spare them?”

Mitchell shook his head miserably. “I don't know. He said he did, but I don't know. I never saw any of them later, so I was the only one he turned. I hoped...”

“So you became a vampire to save your men?” 

Anders wasn't sure what he was feeling. He hadn't believed in vampires any more than he'd believed in ghosts or the boogeyman. This was crazy. He'd gone from a romantic dinner straight into the lead role in a horror movie. He didn't know how he should react. Should he really be in the same room with a 120 year-old vampire listening to him tell his life story? How fucking insane was that?

“I...” Mitchell was interrupted by his phone ringing, the happy jig sounding out of place in the silence of the room. He winced when he saw the crack in the screen—he still had another year to go on the contract.

Annie's voice spilled into the room. She was practically screaming at him. “Mitchell, are you alright? What's going on there? What happened? Tell me you're okay. If you don't tell me you are okay I'm coming to get you, I don't care who you are with.”

“Okay, Annie. I'm okay,” he said soothingly. “It was nothing.”

Suddenly George was on the phone. “Don't tell me it was fucking nothing! We just got a phone call and some arsehole scared Annie half to death. He told her that you did a good job of taking out the trash. What does that mean?”

Mitchell looked up a Anders and essayed a little smile. “It's my flatmates, they're worried about me. Sorry, I have to take this.”

'I was out on a...date and two pieces of shite jumped me.” He could hear Annie in the back ground. “Please tell her she doesn't have to come here, I'm fine. I didn't get hurt. Yeah, they did. They got hurt permanently, so I'm safe. You don't have to worry about me.”

George was talking loudly and quickly. Anders could hear a good deal of it even if it wasn't on speaker. Someone, two someones actually, were calling to see if Mitchell was hurt. He felt a twinge as it occurred to him that no one in his family would call to make sure he was okay if he got assaulted. Yet here was a vampire trying to calm his friends...friends he lived with. 

He listened for a minute, his lips curling into a wry smile. “Loud, isn't she?”

Mitchell raised an eyebrow...Anders was able to hear Annie...

“No, Annie you don't need to talk to her.” Mitchell was saying, trying to field her distress. “She's...well...not a 'she' and she...I mean he didn't get hurt.” 

Finally he just looked up at Anders and said, “Annie won't take no for an answer. She wants to make sure that you are okay.” He looked up at the god. “I'm gonna put it on speaker so you don't have to come near me.” 

The moment Anders said 'hello' he was assaulted by Annie alternately demanding reassurances that he was ok and that Mitchell wasn't lying and threatening to 'pop' over and see for herself. 

“I didn't get hurt,” Anders said. He looked at the vampire sitting there, face bruised and tear-streaked, eye red-rimmed and still swimming in unshed tears. “Mitchell...he...protected me. He didn't let them get me.” He swallowed hard. “He didn't let them hurt me. Yes, he's okay, some bruises, but nothing worse. He's not bleeding all over the carpet.”

Mitchell sat frozen holding the phone, listening to Annie and George trying to out-talk each other, alternately asking questions of Anders and demanding to know what happened. In other circumstances it would have been hysterical, but now it was just making him sad.

Finally Annie proved to have more breath (somehow) than George and took over the conversation. “What's your name?” she demanded. Barely waiting for an answer she started talking again. She wanted to know where he was from, how he met Mitchell and what they had done.

Anders looked at Mitchell with a WTF? expression. Mitchell shrugged as if to say he certainly had no control over her.

“We just went out to dinner. Italian. Lasagna, actually and a salad.” Anders finally interjected. “Yes, Mitchell got his chocolate desert.”

She started to grill Anders about who he was and what his intentions were regarding Mitchell and the vampire sat there blushing, which for him was a bit of pink on his neck. He finally spoke up and said, “Annie if you don't stop I'm hanging up. Yes, he's a nice man and yes I care for him very much, now that's enough.”

Annie's parting shot was to yell, “Anders Johnson if you let anything happen to our Mitchell we will hunt you down. We can do it. Well, George might have to wait for the full moon, but I can find you. Don't you dare break his heart!”

“Goodbye, Annie,” Mitchell said gently. I will call you tomorrow.” He disconnected before she hand a chance to say anything else. He put the phone on the nightstand. “She worries about me.”

“I can see that,” Anders said looking at the bruises on the vampire's face. He hadn't noticed them at first and felt ashamed. Mitchell had obviously taken a beating and was probably lucky to be alive. “She and George care about you very much.”

The vampire shrugged. “We're friends. Sometimes we're more like family. We argue and sometimes even fight, but we'd die for each other.”

The god shifted nervously and then looked at Mitchell. “You said you'd die to protect me.”

The vampire looked up at him and nodded. “Of course.” He spoke as if that were the most natural thing in the world to say. 

“I ran away and left you.”

“You couldn't fight them,” Mitchell said softly.

“You don't think I'm a coward for running?” Anders' brows furrowed. He was on unfamiliar territory. 

“No. Of course not. It would have been mad for you to stay.” Mitchell's gaze was open and honest, his tears dried and the look in his hazel eyes earnest. He meant what he said.

“But I didn't come back to help you and you...got hurt.” Anders walked over to the window and looked out. “I have...sort of a history of running away and not helping. I guess I'm running true to form.” He pressed his forehead against the glass looking out as if he could find his courage in the night.

The vampire rose from the bed and approached him but was careful to keep his distance. “Running from two vampires who want you for dinner isn't cowardice—it's common sense. What good could you have done if you had stayed? Trying to protect you would only have gotten us both killed. You did the right thing.”

“I did?” He voice was soft and sounded very far away. 

“Trust me.”

Anders turned and looked up at him. “I can, can't I?”

Mitchell frowned, he was puzzled. “Can what?”

“Trust you. I can trust you.”

“Yes.” Mitchell hung his head, his eyes sad. “I know I'm a monster. I don't deserve your trust, but I could never hurt you—I couldn't.”

The blond looked at him and felt his heart twisting. He had been terrified of the vampire, it unnerved him a little that Mitchell was standing so close, but at the same time he knew he was in no danger. He wanted to turn the clock back 24 hours so that this night would be erased. He wanted to go back to the comfort of Mitchell's arms.

He heard a soft ragged intake of breath and looked at Mitchell. Tears were welling up again. One crystal drop escaped and slowly trained down the vampire's cheek to pause at a bruise and then continue its course.

Reflexively, the god reached up and brushed it away, laying his hand on the swelling on Mitchell's cheek. He looked up into dark eyes that seemed to be filled with all the pain in the world. Without thinking, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on swollen lips. Then with a soft strangled sob, the vampire drew him in and held him tightly. He kissed Anders' hair and then bent to kiss his forehead. 

“I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't know how.”

Anders kissed a bruise on Mitchell's neck. “I have something I haven't told you either. I guess at some point we are going to have to actually talk and be honest with each other.”

The vampire nodded. He kissed Anders on the cheek, but the god turned his head, letting the kiss slide to his lips instead. The kiss was chaste—sweet and soft, passion without lust. Just two people clinging together shutting out the world.

Mitchell shivered and Anders realized that he was cold. He slid his arms around the vampire to hold him and felt him start, giving a small whimper. The god stepped back and tugged at the sweatshirt. “You're hurt. Take your shirt off.”

Slowly and stiffly Mitchell pulled the sweatshirt over his head. Anders lifted his T-shirt wincing at the deep purple bruises on the vampire's back and side. When he looked at Mitchell it was his turn to look through a veil of tears.

“They beat you up, you need a doctor.” He wanted to touch and comfort but was afraid that any touch would hurt.

The vampire shook his head. “I heal quickly. I've had a lot worse than this. I just need to get warm and lie down.” He looked sadly at Anders. “Would it be okay with you if I stayed awhile.”

Anders frowned and looked up at him resolutely. “You aren't going anywhere except into the shower. There's a tea maker and tea. I will put it on to brew while you wash.”

He led Mitchell to the bathroom as if he were a small child. Once there he helped him to undress, tears spilling at the huge bruises over the Irishman's kidneys and his ribs. He noted that some smaller bruises were already turning yellow as they healed. The swelling on Mitchell's cheek appeared to have gone down as well. 

“I would never have survived a beating like this,” he said as he sat Mitchell on the toilet and pulled off his boots. 

“No you wouldn't. Us creatures of the night are pretty resilient.” He gave the blond a small smile.

'You egg, don't you do this again.”

“I hadn't planned on doing it this time,” Mitchell said wryly.

Anders extended his hand, helping the brunette to his feet. “Yeah, as a plan it would pretty much blow.”

He stepped into the steaming shower, the water hotter than Anders could have tolerated. He stood in the spray letting the heat soak into him, washing away the blood and sweat and pain. He had thought, at one point, that he wasn't going to survive. He was on the verge of blacking out when he managed to find and hang onto his attacker's trachea. He didn't let his mind think about what would have happened if he hadn't gotten lucky. He turned his back to the shower, extended his arms and let the pounding of the water calm him.

The god managed the complexities of the tea maker with only a few fumbles. He would like to stop shaking. It was annoying and unmanly. Not that he had ever been overly manly—he left that to Mike with his tools and pickup truck. But he had to get a grip. So much had changed in the last week and a half. His whole life had been turned upside down and tonight it had spun 180 diagonally. He heard a groan and hurried back into the bathroom.

He pulled the shower curtain back and found Mitchell standing there sadly holding the washcloth. “I guess I’m stiffer than I thought I was.”

The god smiled, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They remained grey and troubled. “Let me help.” 

The vampire held out the wash cloth letting Anders take it from him. The blond reached up to angle the shower spray away from the curtain. He looked at Mitchell who was standing quietly, curls straightened by the weight of the water hanging unchallenged over his face obscuring his vision. It was as if he was trying to go away—to just become as invisible as he was in mirrors.

The god leaned over and kissed his shoulder. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered. Mitchell’s head dropped in acquiescence and tenseness seemed to drain from his body.

Slowly and with infinite tenderness, Anders slid the soapy cloth over Mitchell’s bruised skin. He washed away the crusted blood, trying not to cause more discomfort. The vampire remained relaxed, closing his eyes and heaving a long slow sigh. The god pulled shower head off its rack and twisted the setting to gentle. He rinsed the soap away and then hung the shower back in place letting the water sluice over the vampire’s chest.

“Soak for a few minutes and see if you can work some of the soreness out,” thats what my sensei always recommends.

The vampire opened his eyes. “You have a sensei? You are full of surprises.” A small smile touched his lips. “I’ll be out in a minute.” He paused, then looked at Anders. “Thank you…for everything…”

Anders smiled back and nodded. “And thank you.” He gave a small formal dojo bow that made the vampire chuckle.

He went out to check on the tea maker and to chi satisfaction found it ready. He kept an ear out and when he heard the shower turn off he returned to the bathroom. He found Mitchell stepping carefully out of the shower holding the wall for support. The god quickly moved to assist him. He handed him a towel and picked one up for himself. As the brunette dried his front Anders tenderly dried his back, patting gently with the towel to sponge up the water without putting any pressure on the damaged flesh. 

When Mitchell bent down to dry his legs he gave an involuntary moan. Dropping to his knees, the god carefully ran the towel over the Irishman's long legs, being careful with the bruises that dotted them. He smiled as he dried Mitchell's groin. Neither of them was in the mood and he thought this was the first time he'd ever seen him when he wasn't hard. No penis is exactly pretty but Mitchell's came close with the golden-pink head peeping shyly from its delicate hood. The extravagant poof of hair was a soft ebony cloud that smelled enticingly of male and expensive soap. 

Resisting any urges, he finished drying his partner and got to his feet. He helped Mitchell into a warm bathrobe and then took him in to sit him on the bed. He put a mug of hot sweet tea with a bit of milk from the mini-fridge into Mitchell's hands and then handed him two white oval tablets and a small package of biscuits. 

“It's Panafen for the pain. You can take pain meds, right?”

Mitchell reached for the biscuits, smiling as he saw they had peanut butter filling. “Yeah, I don't usually bother, but maybe this will help. I feel like shite. Where did you get the bikkies?”

“Must be complimentary, they were in the fridge. You shouldn't take this stuff on an empty stomach.” He smoothed back Mitchell's wet hair, smiling as the Irishman leaned into him, pressing against his hand. “You have your snack and I'll be right back."

He returned with the hairdryer. The vampire sat there quietly and allowed Anders to brush and dry his hair. The tea was wonderful, the loving attention even more so. They both knew they'd turned the corner. Things might be awkward now and again, but there was no more fear. There never would be if Mitchell had anything to say about it. 

When the vampire's hair was dry Anders put the dryer away and came back with a large tumbler of vodka on the rocks. Mitchell looked up at him, took it and downed it in two large gulps.

“You're not supposed to drink with pain meds, you know and you're going to get cold again,” he warned, impressed that the vampire had downed 30 ml of 80 proof vodka without a blink. 

Mitchell waved away the concern. “Not if you come over and warm me up,” was the soft reply. 

“Best offer I've had all night.” The god thought about pouring another drink then changed his mind. He didn't really need alcohol with Mitchell here. His nerves had gotten over their need to fight or flee and he was feeling tired and sleepy. 

“Let's go to bed and cuddle,” he suggested.

“Now that sounds like a plan.” Mitchell stood up and fished out one of the T-shirts he'd stuffed into his bag. He shrugged out of the robe and slid it on, aware that Anders was watching him. He then pulled out a pair of low-cut black silk briefs and held them up. “I wanted to be sexy for you.”

The blond grinned. “I think for tonight you need something warmer, but I'm looking forward to seeing you in those...and helping you out of them.”

Mitchell gave him a tired smile and chose a pair of boxer-briefs instead. While he'd been dressing Anders came over and pulled off the spread, got a spare blanket from the closet and got the bed ready. 

“Do you prefer right or left?” 

“I usually sleep on my back, so it doesn't matter. You get in and I'll follow.” He noted that the blond was dressed the same as he was. Well, his shirt didn't have the faded logo of an ancient rock group, but he liked that Anders chose to wear what he was wearing. It was sweet.

Anders climbed into the right side of the bed, threw the covers back and held out his arms in welcome. Mitchell slid in next to him and curled up against his chest, head pillowed on the god's arm. Anders threw the covers over them both and leaned over to turn out the light. 

Mitchell slid his arm around the god and hugged him gently. “How're you doing?”

“I'm fine. The bigger question is how do you feel?”

“Sore.”

“If you hadn't had to protect me, would they have beaten you so badly?”

“You want the truth?” Mitchell whispered, sliding his hand down Anders' back.

“That's what I thought. I'm so sorry I was afraid and ran.” The god tangled his fingers in Mitchell's hair and pressed kisses against the top of his head.

“Don't beat yourself up. The only thing that would have happened if you'd stayed is that we both might be hurt or worse. Mortals don't stand a chance against vampires in a fight. But it's history. It will never happen again.” He spread his fingers in the middle of Anders' back and tightened his hug. “I won’t let it.”

They lay cuddled together in the darkness entwined in each other’s arms. The heat of Anders' body was comforting and Mitchell drifted into a deep sleep.

The cry sent Mitchell bolt upright, fighting to make sense of his surroundings. It trailed off into a whimper and he put his hand out and found that Anders’ side of the bed was empty. He could see perfectly in the dark and spotted the god curled up in the niche between the room heater and the dresser. He was pulled into a tight ball hiding his head. The vampire slid out of bed and knelt next to him.

He put a hand on Anders' shoulder, “Are you okay? What's the matter?”

In a small whisper voice Anders pleaded, “There's monsters, honest. Don't hit me, daddy,”

Wincing at the fear and remembered pain in that plea, Mitchell reached out to lay a gentle hand on Anders' shoulder. “Baby, there's no monsters. You're safe. No one's going to hit you. Not ever again. Wake up now, please wake up.”

The god opened his eyes and looked around puzzled. “What happened?”

“You had a nightmare, babe, that's all. You're safe now.” He moved his hand to pet Anders' hair, soothing him.

“Fuck, I'm sorry. I haven't had one like that in a long time.” He was embarrassed and struggled to sit upright.

“It's been a pretty stressful night, but you're safe.” He leaned forward, sliding his arms around Anders, picking him up as if he weighed nothing he carried him back to the bed and laid him down gently. He climbed in, covered them and then wound himself around the blonde, trying to cover him with his body—shielding him from the hurts of the past. 

Anders snuggled in, burying his face against the crook in Mitchell's neck, willing the tears back. The dream had been forgotten, but the terror was still there. He knew he'd seen the fangs coming at him. By some weird and miraculous twist of fate he was being cradled by another being with fangs who was bigger and badder than the rest. There really were monsters and he was being protected by one. It should have been scary, but it wasn't. For the first time in his life he knew he was truly safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for bearing with me through what has turned out to be an epic journey into the making of this relationship. There is a lot to explore with these two and there is more to go as they have to make huge decisions about where it will go from here. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and your support.
> 
> The Volare restaurant does exist where I describe it and gets a high rating from customers. It is lovely inside with cream and cranberry decor and magnificent Italian food. If anyone eats there, be sure to tell them that Mitchell sent you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working things out is never smooth sailing especially when you are discussing your lifestyle while in the bathtub. Being honest is hard. Being yourself is even harder. When the fences are down and your pretenses lay in tatters around your feet all that remains is who you really are. But is this enough?

Morning came too early and then tiptoed out of the room, leaving them to their rest. At one point Anders staggered to the bathroom, peed voluminously and then toddled back to bed, entwining his arms and legs with Mitchell again. The vampire murmured something unintelligible and hauled him in closer, then went back to chasing the pleasant dream he'd been having.

They woke slightly before noon. Anders pried his eyes open and found Mitchell watching him contentedly. He smiled, dimples catching the shadow, as the vampire ran a finger over his cheek, explored a dimple and then drifted down to toy with his beard. 

“I like watching you sleep. You were so comfortable just laying there smiling.”

“Mmm...I was dreaming about you.” Blue eyes struggled to stay open and not give in to the urge to sink back into the warm dream of strong arms and the feeling of being guarded.

“You were?” The Irishman was intrigued. “What were you dreaming?”

“You were being all big and bad and protecting me.”

Mitchell pulled him in close so that Anders' face was buried against his chest. “It's important to you to be protected, isn't it?”

The god shrugged. “I don't know, I never thought about it. But, yeah, I guess. I didn't get much protecting when I was a kid. None of us did, really.”

“Your father hit you.” It wasn't a question.

Anders nodded. “And sometimes my mother too. They hit all of us, except for Axl, my little brother. By the time he came along they didn't care enough anymore.”

“But you took the worst of it?” 

“Probably. Mike was old enough to get out of the house and I tried to protect Ty.”

Mitchell kissed his cheek and forehead. “By taking the blame for things?”

“Yeah, Ty was just a baby and did things because he didn't know any better. Mom never taught him, she'd just hit him. I tried to teach him, but I wasn't much older than he was.” He buried his head in the vampire's chest hair. “But that was a long time ago.”

“Not as long ago as you think, Babe. That kind of hurt never goes away. I was lucky that my Da was a good man. We were poor but loved.” He leaned over and kissed Anders, “Now feed me, I'm starving.”

Breakfast was just a phone call away and arrived before they had completely gotten out of bed. Since Anders had simply ordered “breakfast for two” it was like unwrapping a gift to lift the silver domes and see what was under them. They found two small servings of eggs Benedict, four fried eggs, what looked like a rasher of bacon, four plump sausages and a mound of hash browns. There were also pots of fresh coffee and tea, both richly fragrant, served with a pitcher of real cream. 

Mitchell was not used to eating like this and he approached the banquet with childlike glee. Anders was grinning as he watched him heap his plate, pour a cup of coffee and liberally add cream and sugar. They sat on the sofa to eat, reducing the feast to crumbs in no time. 

The vampire was moving more fluidly, having done a lot of healing as he slept. Feeding would have totally healed him long ago, but that wasn't going to happen. He stretched experimentally and found that, while still stiff he was mobile.

“You're moving better.” Anders observed.

“Told you I heal fast. I'm still stiff though.”

The god gave him an arch look. “How about a nice soak, there's a big tub in there...big enough for two.”

“Are you proposing I share my bath with you, sir?” Mitchell's eyes were sparkling with mischief.

“Indeed I am.”

“Well, if you think it's appropriate...”

“Oh I do.” Anders rose and headed into the bathroom. He then popped his head around the corner. “I think it's the most appropriate thing I've thought of in a long while.”

He took a moment to hang the “do not disturb” sign on the door then turned the water on in the tub. He was grinning from ear to ear and humming as he pulled down the towels and set them over by the tub. This was going to be fun.

Mitchell took it upon himself to finish the bacon since it would be shame to let it go to waste. He piled the dishes on the cart and slid it into the hallway for disposal. If only everything could be solved simply by rolling it into the hall and shutting the door behind you.

Anders popped his head around the corner and stood there gloriously nude, crooking his finger at the Irishman in a very sexy “come here” motion. What could he do, he was impelled to obey orders and follow the Kiwi into the bathroom.

Anders very slowly removed Mitchell's T-shirt wincing at the bruises. “They look a lot better, but I'll bet they're still tender.”

“Yeah they are, and I'm stiff as a board.”

“Okay, test the water and let me know if it's a good temperature so we can get you soaking.” A sideways glance at the mirror showed only his reflection. He was talking to empty air. 'You don't reflect.”

“No I don't. Most of the lore is wrong, but that piece is right. I have no idea why we don't cast reflections in mirrors but we don't. I haven't seen myself for decades.” He looked a little sad as he added a little more hot water to the tub.

Anders shrugged off the weirdness of it. “Well I can tell you that you are the most gorgeous being who has ever walked the planet.”

Mitchell grinned. “Oh I am, am I? That's nice to know and yet here I was thinking the same about you. 

Anders smiled, dimples framing perfect lips tempting the Irishman to lean down to kiss first one and then the other.

“So, are you getting in first, or am I?” he asked playing with a tempting dimple.

“Me first, that way I can hold you against me and you poor back won't touch the tub.” Anders stepped into the tub and stopped as his toes boiled. He winced but said nothing, allowing himself time to get used to the heat. Slowly he lowered himself down and as he sat he knew that he was never going to have children. His swimmers had just been boiled and were floating belly-up like tiny dead goldfish. 

He lowered himself all the way down and looked up at Mitchell with a frown. “I hope you know you just made me permanently sterile.”

Mitchell climbed in and sat down gracefully between Anders' legs. “Some day you will thank me.”

An eyebrow shot up. “Yeah, I'm always grateful for boiled nuts.”

The vampire shrugged and winced. “Quit whining, you egg, and massage my shoulders.” 

“You just called me an 'egg'.”

“So?”

“If you can't say it right, don't say it.” He gave the vampire a playful shove to make his point.

“Okay...quit whining...you igg. Is that better?” Mitchell asked with a grin.

“Much. If you're going to talk like a Kiwi—you have to sound like a Kiwi. Now lean forward a little.”

He dug his fingers into the vampire's shoulders staying away from any bruises. He massaged until he felt the muscles surrender and go slack. With a sigh of relief Mitchell leaned back, pillowing himself against Anders' chest, his head resting against the Kiwi's cheek. The god slid his arms around and crossed them across Mitchell's chest, hugging him gently. He buried his face in the Irishman's hair, nibbling his ear and blowing gently into it.

“Mmm...I thought this was supposed to be a bath.”

“It is, but I can't be this close and not want to nibble on you. You're amazing and addicting.”

Mitchell signed. “I'm your first man. First times are always special.”

“It's special because it's you, Mitchell. My life is shit. You're the one good thing that's happened to me and I'm not going to cheapen it by saying that you're a 'first time.'” Anders' arms tightened around the Irishman's chest. “I'm not.”

His lips continued to toy with Mitchell's ear and he started to whisper, but it wasn't Bragi talking. 

“Your lips were made for kissing and your body for loving. I desire every inch of you and always will.” He slid his hand down Mitchell's stomach and gently cupped his genitals, feeling an immediate response. “I desire you and no other.”

The vampire turned his head to steal a kiss. “Sweet words coming from someone I practically made piss himself last night.”

“Shut up asshole, I'm making love to you.”

Mitchell chuckled. “Ok, but I'm not even used to having women talk to me like that.”

“Well I am the god of poetry...” His voice trailed off.

Mitchell sat up and turned partly around. “Is that the something you were going to tell me?”

“Shit.” Anders raked his fingers though his hair and looked up at the vampire, not quite meeting his eyes. “Yeah, that's sorta it. I'm Bragi—the Norse god of poetry.”

“No shit? I mean I knew there was something different about you...but a god?” Mitchell had a look on his face that was half puzzled and half expectant. 

“It's something we don't talk about because every time a mortal gets involved in god business it all turns to shit and people get hurt.” He lifted his eyes and winced. “I've seen it happen. It's not pretty.”

“Well,” Mitchell said slowly. I'm not a mortal, so maybe there won't be a problem. You've managed to survive being involved in vampire business.”

“This is less direct, it’s more like accidents and stupid decisions that get people hurt and even when we try to keep that from happening it happens anyway.”

“We?”

“My brothers are gods too. So were my parents and grandparents. It’s been going on for a while.”

“So...how old are you?”

“Thirty-four. I've only been a god since I was twenty one. It's something that happens to us on our twenty-first birthday.” He remembered the lightning bolt and the fried clothing. The car keys in his back pocket was the worst part of that. They had left a mark. And he still missed the jacket.

Mitchell turned back around and leaned back against Anders' chest. “Well that does explain how you could hear Annie.”

“Why wouldn't I have been able to hear Annie?” 

“Are you ready for your world to get weirder than it already is?” The vampire chuckled and gave Anders' knee a squeeze.

“Lay it on me.”

“Annie's a ghost.”

“You are fucking kidding!” Anders was more than surprised. “A ghost...?”

“And George is a werewolf.” Mitchell was lying there grinning. He didn't have to see Anders' face to know that his jaw was hanging open. “Yup. Full moons around our flat are pretty interesting. As it is, we won't be getting the security deposit back.”

“You sound like the first line of a bad joke,” Anders said wondering why this news didn't seem all that unnerving. “A vampire, a werewolf and a ghost rent a flat...”

Mitchell laughed and the blond smiled as he felt the quake against his chest. “Well, Annie came with the flat, no extra charge. She was murdered there and couldn't leave.”

“And George?”

“He was being assaulted by a couple of vampires and I broke it up. We don't usually get on, vamps and weres, but George is a nice bloke and he's become my best mate. It's weird, but it works for us.”

Mitchell ran his hand up and down the inside of Anders' leg. “So what kind of powers does a god of poetry have?”

“I...I can talk people into doing things...make them think it was their own idea.” Suddenly it didn't seem like he had any power at all, certainly not compared to being immortal and being strong enough to lift grown men up bodily. He wasn't tall, he wasn't strong and he had no superpowers. 

“So that's how you got me to come back to the hotel with you,” Mitchell said smoothly.

“Well...no...not exactly. It doesn't work with you. It doesn’t work with other gods either.”

Mitchell though about it for a moment. “You said your parents and grandparents are gods as well? That must make for some fun times.”

Anders shook his head. “It makes for some very un-fun times. We don't get on all that well. In fact we barely get on at all.”

The vampire could hear the tension in his voice and dropped the subject. “I wondered why you smell different than a mortal. I guess this whole god thing explains it.”

“I smell different?” The blond didn't know whether to be insulted or not.

“Yeah,” Mitchell drew little circles on Anders' knee. “You don't smell like food.”

He instantly regretted saying anything because Anders froze. Every muscle went stiff as a board and a tiny whimper escaped his lips.

“Oh shit! Fuck! Shit! I'm an idiot! I'm so sorry.” He tried to turn in the tub but couldn't get any purchase, so he just flailed for a moment getting water all over the floor, squashing the god into the back of the tub, forcing a groan out of him. 

He finally settled for scooting forward, grabbing the tap and turning himself over. He faced the god on his knees, tears starting again. He started to reach out, then dropped his hand.

“Humans are food?” The question was shaky, but Anders made no move to leave the tub.

“I'm a _vampire_ remember! It's what we do. It's what I became. I keep trying to give it up, but it’s harder than you can imagine.” Mitchell's eyes were begging him not to be afraid again.

“You've killed people taking their blood.” The statement stung and the vampire nodded sadly. 

“I told you that I'm a murderer. I wasn't lying. I'm not trying to hide anything. Why else would I kill someone? I don't do it for fun.” _Not anymore,_ he thought. Never again. The brunette bowed his head to look at the water. He wished he could just sink beneath it forever and be gone down the drain.

“Was it fun?”

Mitchell froze, warring with himself. Honesty won out and he shook his head. “The high I got from it was. I was a hype desperately needing a fix. My only thought was getting my drug not how, or why or who. It's like that with any addict, it’s only the fix that matters and they never see the trail of destruction they leave behind.”

“And now you see it?” Anders asked sadly. “You see the destruction?”

Mitchell's head snapped up and his were blazing. “See it? I see THEM! I close my eyes and I see their faces. I sleep and they ask me ‘why?’ I know that to make them go away I have to drink. But if I do there will only be more faces...more guilt. I've tried to end my life, but I'm a coward. I'm afraid of what waits for me on the other side.”

Anders took a deep breath. The fear was fading again, being replaced by understanding and a compassion he didn't realize he possessed. “So how do you live with the guilt and the...withdrawal?”

“As to the guilt...” he shrugged. “I don't deal with it. I push it out of my mind. I try to do the right things in my life. I can't make anything up. I can't say I'm sorry. I'm a monster in a cage and I hold the key.” He looked at Anders, his gaze softening. “Really, it’s like they say, you take it one day at a time. Every day I have to make sure I don't turn that key.”

The god's mouth was a thin line. He wasn't letting the vampire off the hook that easily. “So how do you deal with the addiction to blood? Do you just slip up now and then and end up with more guilt and more bodies?”

Mitchell wanted to beg him to stop asking questions. He knew he could get whiny and pathetic. He's been coping for a century by convincing himself that he was the real victim. Jesus, it was hard to stand up and take responsibility. “I won't say it hasn't happened.”

Anders' brows furrowed. “So do you just suddenly decide to snack on your date, or do you do a little foreplay first?”

“Yeah, foreplay. Fucking actually.”

“Attack when their defenses are down?”

“Something like that,” the vampire said quietly. He looked at Anders and saw the disgust mirrored in those incredible blue eyes. He could see himself reflected back. The god was a predator too, but while he might steal a maidenhead he never took a life.

“I've been working on kicking it, the addiction. The problem is that I also need blood to live. If I'm clean for too long I start to die. Something in the blood keeps me alive.” He held up his hands in a gesture of defeat.

“Catch 22,” Anders said. “Damned if you do, dead if you don't.”

“Sadly accurate, I'm afraid. But Annie. My precious Annie...heard of a Goth club where they do blood play. That's where I was coming from when I met you. For the first time I got what I needed and no one was hurt.”

“So why me?” The god sat there, water chilling, completely at a loss to understand what he was feeling. Most days he tried to feel as little as possible and with the help of alcohol and drugs it usually worked. He had no buffer between himself and his emotions now and they were so raw they were bleeding. He wanted to know why a stone killer had picked him and why he wasn't dead.

The vampire looked at him and smiled, this time it warmed his eyes. “You are beautiful in ways you can't even begin to imagine. You smiled at me and I thought time had stopped. I'm not really that into men, but crystal blue eyes, dimples, a perfect smile and that accent did it. I really was just going to walk you home, but when you came onto me... I kind of have a thing for people who are struggling, I guess because I've struggled so much myself. I just wanted to be the one who held you and loved you for the first time.”

His eyes warmed—deep chocolate turning to gold. “I wanted to make your first time special.”

Anders felt as if his heart stopped. He had to have fallen down the rabbit hole, that was the only explanation. He wouldn't have been surprised if the White Rabbit came sprinting through the bathroom moaning about being late. 

He found himself saying, “You did. You were amazing...it was amazing.” He shook his head. “I seem to have gone insane at some point though. Am I really sitting here in a bathtub having this conversation with a vampire?”

The Irishman nodded, looking up at him out of the tops of his eyes. “I'm afraid so. But this vampire very much just wants to be your lover. I told you I'd protect you and I meant it—even from myself.”

Anders shook his head and then smiled, dimples catching the shadow and Mitchell's heart. Slowly the god rose and got to his knees, he leaned forward gathering Mitchell into his arms with a tenderness he hadn't realized he possessed. “You are everything I always dreamed of. I'm just having a little trouble with this whole vampire thing.”

“I think most people would. Actually, I think most people would have run screaming.” The brunette chuckled. “I don't think they would be as brave as you are.”

Anders snorted. “I'm the family coward, you know.”

Mitchell kissed his neck in the exact spot he had taken so many lives. Soft lips worked over chilled skin healing and loving. “You are no coward. You are braver than you could possibly know.”

“I'm glad you think so. I'm also apparently insane.”

“Then it’s a good thing that I'm here to take care of you.” He kissed the blond's neck again. “I want that so badly.”

The god pulled away and met Mitchell's lips with his own. The kiss started off soft, but caught fire until both men were sobbing for breath. The vampire stood, easily lifting Anders to his feet. They stepped out of the tub and dried in a flurry of towels, touches and kisses. It was a combination of utter tenderness and blazing heat, erotic beyond description. By the time they tumbled into bed they no longer noticed the chill, there was only the heat of their passion.

They clung together, lips barely able to be parted from one another. Neither had ever kissed or been kissed like this. It was as if their very lives depended on the life-breath of the other. Their sighs and moans blended into a soft continuous sound that rose and fell sweeping around them. Hands moved quickly and slowly, twining in hair, sliding across skin, pressing lightly and firmly, holding and tickling, unable to remain still as if every part within reach had to be touched for affirmation that it was really there. 

Mitchell was on top and positioned himself so that their cocks were aligned. Every movement slid them past one another. Tender skin, sensitized to the slightest touch, rubbed against each other's lengths. Crisp abdominal hair scraped lightly adding to the sensory overload. Each thrust against the other, muscle against muscle with their lips never parted.

Anders came first, crying out into Mitchell's mouth. His hips lifted his partner as he demanded more. The Irishman gave it to him, thrusting back harder, digging his hips into the smaller man, churning against him to bring him to the peak and hold him there for what seemed like hours. His pleasure set the vampire off, his climax blinding him to everything except the glory of the explosion inside him. He cried out in Gaelic as he emptied onto the god's belly. 

Exhausted by emotion and pleasure they lay joined with Anders easily supporting Mitchell, his arms around the vampire, holding him tightly. When the Irishman tried to move, he was pulled back, swollen lips claiming his again until he relaxed and let the Kiwi take his weight. 

Mitchell buried his face into the god's neck, breathing the spicy musk. He nibbled and pressed tender kisses onto a neck he had no desire to bite. He couldn't imagine ever harming Anders. Every cell of his body only wanted to hold him, love him and keep him safe. He could happily spend the rest of his life right here, locked away from the ugliness of the world. He reached up and kissed him gently.

“That was amazing,”

A whistling sigh answered him. “That was way past amazing and into infuckingcredible.” He kissed Mitchell lightly. “Thank you.”

Mitchell smiled and kissed the god's nose. “You're welcome. This was brilliant...you were brilliant.” He chuckled, “I'm feeling sappy right now.”

The god tangled his fingers in Mitchell's curls. “So am I. I'm only good at one night stands. Relationships, not so much. Are we starting a relationship?”

Another kiss. “I don't know? Would that be a bad thing?”

“Probably. I'll let you know after a few more rounds of incredible sex.” Anders was smiling. “I might be getting in too deep here.”

“Yeah, me too.” Mitchell was smiling to but there was a longing in his eyes that the god didn't see.

“How are you feeling? We were supposed to be soaking your bruises.” Anders ran gentle fingers over the yellow bruise on the Irishman's forearm. 

“I'm fine. I told you that I'm tough.” In truth he was healing much slower than he would if he'd had a blood meal, but that was impossible so he was content to ride out the aching and stiffness. He was not all that unhappy, he had eliminated a threat and, although he had terrified his partner, he'd also reassured him that he was more than capable of protecting him. 

The Irishman rolled off of the smaller man. There was a moment where they were stuck together and then tore free with an unnerving sound. 

The “Ewww” was so in chorus they both burst out laughing.

“We need a shower,” Mitchell observed as he ruefully surveyed his belly.

The god nodded, but said, “I'm good with having a wash right now because I'm starving.”

They actually managed a washup session that didn't turn into sex although the huge mirror gave Mitchell some ideas. First things first though and food was definitely first. 

They chose the to eat at Oscars in-house. Lunch was good with Mitchell finally getting fish and chips that he got to finish and his beloved mushy peas. Anders still thought they looked as if someone had already eaten them and this time the vampire could not tempt him try a bite. He just didn't think they would go all that well with his steak sandwich. He ignored the brunette when he stuck out a tongue liberally coated with green mush. 

Anders' phone rang while they were eating and he hurriedly shut it off. 

“You're going to have to answer it at some point.,” the vampire observed. “Your client must be pretty eager to get that stick if their calls are anything to go by. You're just pissing them off by not answering.”

“I don't need you to tell me how to handle my clients,” the blond snapped. He stabbed a stray piece of steak with his fork refusing to meet Mitchell's eyes. 

“Okay, I was just saying...” His voice trailed off and he pushed his last chip around the plate unsure what he'd said to anger his partner. 

When the waiter came and asked them about dessert Mitchell didn't know what to say, so he kept his head down and pretended interest in his last chip. He was surprised when Anders smoothly ordered a chocolate confection for him and a glass of brandy for himself.

“You didn't have to do that,” he said softly.

“Do what?”

“Order dessert...for me.”

The god had completely forgotten that he'd been snappish earlier. “Why wouldn't I, you love chocolate.”

“You sounded angry.”

“Did I? Yeah, I can be a prick. Just ask my brothers.” He finished his beer. “I guess the thought of the real world just made me edgy.”

“Are your brothers really that bad?” Mitchell asked, toying with his napkin ring.

“Yes and no. They aren't bad blokes. Mike's a pain in my ass, but the other two aren't too bad most of the time. We just never see eye-to-eye on much of anything. Now we've got this...this “thing” going and they are getting in the way. My mother decided to get in on it and...” he raked his hand though his hair. “Never mind, it's not worth discussing. Just be glad you are so far away from them.”

_But I don't want to be that far away from them._ Mitchell thought. _I want to be where you are._

His dessert arrived and he ate it with less appetite than usual. Anders noticed him pushing the cake around the plate.

“Isn't it very good?”

“No, it's not that. I was just reminded that you have to leave soon. And that's it.” The Irishman looked up at him with dark sad eyes. “By this time next week I will be a memory.”

Anders paused with his brandy halfway to his lips. Caught unawares, he froze. He'd done his best to shut the world out for the last two days, but it came rushing back. It was like one of those movie scenes where everything is moving at high speed while the actor is standing still. It almost made the god feel giddy. 

“I'll just be a memory too.” He set his glass back down, staring at the amber liquid. 

He looked up at Mitchell his blue eyes wide and frightened. “I don't want to just be a memory. I don't want to be a ghost who haunts your dreams. This is the first time in my life I've ever felt real—as if I am actually Anders Johnson and not someone playing the part.”

Mitchell looked at him, studying his chiseled features, expensive haircut and his designer clothes. “Maybe we're better off as memories. I'm a vampire, not a god. I'm not in your league and I never will be. I'm just the cleaner that no one notices. That's all I'll ever be. I'm a shadow who should have been dead a century ago.”

“No!” Anders said louder than he'd intended, causing several heads to turn.

“No. You're more than that, Mitchell, don't think that way. I'm not as much as you seem to think I am either. I couldn't afford to pick up the tab for all this. I have expensive tastes but a small company—not a good combination. I'm a fraud most of the time, but because of Bragi I can bullshit people into thinking I'm more than I really am.”

He looked at the vampire and blinked. “And I can't believe I just fucking said that.” 

“I think we are getting to the point in our relationship where the truth needs to be said.” Mitchell spoke quietly, not quite meeting the god's eyes.

“Are we in a relationship? This is the second time you've used that word.”

“Actually I believe it was you who said it before. But we seem to be working toward one.” The Irishman dabbed the last of the frosting up with his fork, but set it back down. “I'm treading water. Relationships aren't my speciality.”

“Mine either,” Anders muttered. He hadn't had a relationship since high school. It was so much easier to be alone and not have to constantly play a role.

Mitchell picked up the fork, turned it over in his hand and put it back down again. He looked at Anders, his eyes dark and serious. Feelings were hard to express for two men who grew up in cultures where sharing was not encouraged. He reached across the table to take the Kiwi's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. 

They spent the afternoon cuddling in bed, not even undressing, just taking comfort in each other. Anders looked over at the branch propped in the corner. He could mail it back to Agnetha, start over here in London. Bragi would let him work his way in with people. He could do it. His family, such as it was, would never miss him. In fact, they would probably be damned glad he was out of the way. It was a dreary thought and having had it, he burrowed deeper next to Mitchell, who was already drowsy. A long possessive arm slid around him pulling him closer. He nuzzled the vampire's neck and dozed off.

The phone rang and Anders answered it, still foggy with sleep. It was his mother and she was not amused. He rolled out of bed and went to sit on the sofa. He listened quietly as she reamed him out for spending her money on a 'vacation' in London. 

'You have a ticket home tomorrow, leaving at 2pm. It is non-refundable. If your ass is not on the plane I am going to send Mike over to get you.”

“Now, there's an empty threat,” Anders said sharply. “This stick won't be much of a secret if drag my brothers into it. Don't try to bully me, Agnetha, it won't work. I came over here to do your dirty work for you and damn near got myself killed.”

Her voice cut like a whip. “You're not dead, so stop whining. I'm paying so, when I say ‘jump’ you say ‘how high?’ Now send your current whore home and get back here or I swear there won't be a company to come back to.”

He sat there silently cursing his mother, father and every Norse god in the pantheon.

“Don't fuck with me, Anders,” she warned. “Just get your ass on the plane tomorrow.”

He hung up on her. He looked out the window at the London sky and wondered why he had been cursed. Being a semi-Norse god was not a blessing by anyone's standards. He'd made the best of it, even exploiting it whenever possible, but being able to influence people sure didn't make up for having a normal family.

“Why are you sitting all the way over there,” Mitchell asked. He'd woken up and looked for the blond.

“I'm just having a warm family moment with my bitch of a mother,” Anders snapped.

The vampire shrugged. “At least yours is alive.”

“Fuck you,” Anders countered.

“Promises, promises...” 

Anders winged a throw pillow at him, which was deftly fielded and returned, catching him in the face.

“Hey, watch it!”

“What are you afraid of...that I will break one of your dimples?”

Anders made it across the room in record time and landed on the bed straddling the vampire. His martial arts training was showing and he pinned him easily, holding his wrists and looking down into laughing hazel eyes. 

“Don't fuck with my dimples, Vlad.”

Mitchell burst out laughing so hard he nearly unseated the god. “First you're pissing your pants because of what I am, now you're calling me pet names. I'd be the _Dearg-due_ — not Vlad who was Transylvanian. Get your lore straight. 

Anders frowned. “I can't get straight what I can't pronounce.”

_“DAH-rhug DU-ah,_ accent on the first syllable,” the vampire said patiently.

“What's that even mean?” 

“Basically 'red blood sucker'.” Mitchell said grinning up at him. “Well, technically the _Dearg-due_ is a woman who was wronged by her cruel husband and took revenge, but it's become sort of an all-round term for Irish vampire.”

Anders cocked his head with an evil twinkle in his eyes. “Which one means 'red'?”

“ _“Dearg.”_

The god leaned over and kissed the vampire. “ _“Du-ah,”_ He kissed him again. “You're my _“Du-ah,”_ my beautiful blood sucker.”

Mitchell chuckled and pulled him down into a kiss. “That would be _álainn-due._

_“AW-lin DU-ah,”_ Anders repeated. 

“I'm sorry your mother is a bitch. It happens in the best of families.”

“I suppose yours was a saint.”

“Yeah, she was. Eleven kids and yet she always had time for us.” He dropped his eyes. “At least she got my death benefits and I sent money when I wasn't being crazy.” 

He heaved a sigh. “Let's talk about something more pleasant.”

Mitchell's hair was in his eyes and Anders gently pushed it back, tangling his fingers in the soft curls. “This will be our last night together. What would you like to do? I could get us tickets for a play or something.”

“Would you think I was terribly sappy if I said I just want to spend it here with you?” he reached up and took Anders's hand in his and kissed his knuckles. “I don't even know how you feel about being romantic.”

The god's eyes narrowed a bit. “I'm not sure how I feel about romantic either. It's something I spent my life avoiding. 

Mitchell released his hand. “Okay then maybe we could go out for dinner.”

“Yeah like that worked out so well for us the last time,” Anders' mouth twisted into a sneer that the Irishman wasn't sure how to interpret.

He looked down at the vampire. “I told you I was a prick. I'm not a good guy to get romantic about. I'm a good fuck, so if you're smart you will keep it that way. Don't fall in love with me, Mitchell. I'll only break your heart.”

“Don't say that,” it came out as a soft hurt whisper.

“My therapist said I'd always have problems with relationships. It seems that if you aren't loved enough as a child, you have trouble loving others as an adult. My family...the gift that keeps on giving.” 

His face twisted and he looked away. Mitchell reached up, but he rolled off of him and lay with his back to the vampire. “You should have left me in that bar, mate. I've let this go too far. I know better than to make it any more than a piece of ass. It's the Johnson way, hurt anyone who comes near you. Did I tell you my older brother's best friend ended up in a coma because of him, Ty nearly froze his girlfriend to death by accident and my younger brother's best friend was almost burned to death? Oh by the way my baby brother is also Odin reincarnated and if he dies before he finds the goddess Frigg the whole fucking world dies with him. Us Johnsons should be banned before we hurt anyone else.” 

The tears came hard and fast, wracking his body with sobs. He curled into a ball of pain and misery, pushing at Mitchell when he tried to hug him. Finally the vampire just used his strength and grabbed Anders to pull him close and hold him. He nuzzled into the back of his neck and held him until the storm of tears passed.

When the sobs died to ragged breaths, Mitchell rose up and tenderly kissed the back of his neck and shoulder. “And I thought my life was fucked up. Is it all right if I just hold you, babe? I just want to hold you.”

With a whimper Anders turned over and buried into Mitchell's chest. “I'll take that as a yes,” he said tenderly winding his arms back around the god. 

They just lay in silence as the sky turned red with sunset and then dark with stars. Several times Mitchel thought he was asleep, but Anders just lay here silent, awake trapped in whatever was going on inside his head. His breathing was regular with a little hitch now and then that showed he was processing some sort of inner pain. 

The vampire felt helpless. He cradled Anders protecting him physically, but he couldn't protect him from what he was thinking. He kissed his cheek gently and snuggled against him, just being there for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this beast continues to grow. They have things to say and things to reveal and much to start to heal from. When two top predators work things out, it is neither simple nor painless. 
> 
> Thank you for following them on their journey.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saying goodbye is hard, even when someone hasn't changed your life. What do you do when they have totally changed your life and the world you are returning to is no longer the one you want to live in?
> 
> Pronunciation: álainn-due is pronounced AW-lin DU-ah
> 
> If you aren't starting here [**Smoke and Mirrors**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1034616) you are missing the first part of this story.

Blowing Away the Smoke – 5

The room was starting to darken with the setting of the sun when Anders reached up and ran his hand down the side of Mitchell's face, tracing the fine line of his cheekbone and down to his jaw. His thumb moved to press against the vampire's lips, provoking a tender kiss. “How did I ever find you?”

Mitchell smiled and paraphrased his favorite movie: “Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine.”

Anders smiled. “You really are an egg, you know.” 

The vampire drew him in for a soft kiss. “Absolutely. And so are you.”

It had been a challenge to stop cuddling, get out of bed, dress decently and to down to dinner. They opted for the Oriental restaurant where Anders requested privacy. They were seated at the back in one of the high-back booths with only their waiter in proximity. Unlike the night before, this one just didn't care that they were together and served them respectfully and efficiently.

They chose a variety of dishes. Mitchell declared that none of them could contain anything that remotely resembled the animal it came from. When asked what was that all about he blushingly admitted that he'd been out with friends once and had lifted a tiny whole baby octopus on his fork and had been so horrified he'd left the table for a few minutes until the dish was cleared away. 

“I know it's weird, but I love animals. I know I eat them, but not tiny babies.” He looked up at Anders as if afraid that he was going to ridiculed. 

“It's ok, mate. I wouldn't have eaten it either.”

They spent the meal passing dishes back and forth sampling and being more quiet than they had been. Their eyes met frequently and when passing a dish their fingers touched more often than not. They were carefully avoiding conversation afraid to say too much, or too little. Neither of them could really put into thought or word how they felt. In twenty four hours things had changed so much. Neither was prepared for a serious relationship, but parting was unthinkable.

Mitchell speared a piece of duck with his chopsticks and held it out for Anders, who took the bite while holding the vampire's gaze. When he was back home who was going to feed him Chinese. Who was going to care if he had a bad dream...who would protect him from the monsters in the night? 

He chewed slowly still looking at Mitchell, who met his eyes with a puzzled smile. Until he met this lanky vampire he would have told anyone that he was a man of strength and independence. He needed no one—not family, not lovers and certainly not a relationship. He cruised through life doing as he pleased, manipulating people as needed, rolling in bed with the most desirable women he could find, drinking fine liquor, doing the occasional recreational chemical or two and being his own man. Well, ok of late it had gotten a little more difficult because of the appearance of his mother, but she would leave as she had before and he would go on as Anders/Bragi hopefully soon to become just Bragi.

“I'd offer you a penny for your thoughts, but I get the feeling that the European Union doesn't have enough cash to buy them.” Mitchell pushed his food around and then took a sip of tea.

“I was just thinking about the changes to my life since you came into it. I never thought a week could make so much difference. You'd think a god who went to Asgard to fetch a branch from Yggdrasil wouldn't be thrown for a loop by a mere vampire.” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Oh is that what that stick is. I touched it and knew it was charged in some way. So you fetched a magic stick...”

“Don't you fucking start it!” Anders snapped, his eyes blazing. “I'm getting enough of that shit from my mother.”

“Touchy much. I take it Mum is who sent you over here and is picking up the tab.”

“Yeah, Agnetha's paying. I told you my family was fucked up. For years I thought she was dead. Turns out she got sick of taking care of us kids and walked into the forest and became a fucking tree.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What the hell kind of a woman deserts her kids to become a tree? I can understand finding another man, or running away to Tahiti, but a _tree?_ What, do you suddenly go, 'I want to stand out in the weather and feel nothing'? I just don't get it.”

“Mate, I don't think anyone born can understand that. As a life choice that makes even less sense than the idiots who want to become vampires and I thought they were crazy.”

He reached out and took Anders' hand, squeezing it gently. “Your family may be nuts, if that's the right thing to say to a man whose mother was a tree, but that doesn't mean that you can't make your own choices.”

The god smiled just a little, his mood lightening. “I'm not doing too good with that at the moment either.”

“Who the hell is? We do our best, try not to be a twat and keep moving.” Mitchell tilted his head and smiled, his nose scrunching up as he tried to make light of it. 

He took his chopsticks and poked a bowl of shredded vegetables. Since the poke didn't identify it he scooped some up and put it in his mouth. Instantly his eyes widened and filled with tears and he spat the mouthful into his napkin.

“I think I just fucking ate napalm!” he wheezed as he clutched desperately for the water glass. 

Anders gave him a disgusted look. “Wimp. Gimme that, ya twat.” 

He took the bowl and shoveled in a bite, instantly grabbing for the water glass draining it before wiping his streaming eyes. He nodded. “Napalm.” He poured down the water. “With Agent Orange. My mouth has been deforested.” 

He looked up to see Mitchell laughing so hard tears were running down his cheeks. “Hey asshole, it wasn't that funny!” 

The vampire squeaked and nodded before putting his head down and practically sobbing. Anders sat there, his mouth still on fire and watched his partner laugh. This was an image he never wanted to forget. It was worth the pain to have this effect on Mitchell. He never made people laugh. It felt good. It felt really good.

When Mitchell came up for air he wiped his eyes. “Sorry babe, I just couldn't help it. You are always so sure of yourself.” He interrupted himself to giggle which set Anders off and the two of them sat there laughing until they were breathless. The cloud that had been hanging over them dispelled and they spent the next hour outdoing each other with funny stories. 

“I don't want you to leave,” Mitchell said out of the blue.

“I don't want to go,” Anders replied. “But I have to leave tomorrow.”

“I know. I know you have no choice.” The Irishman looked around the restaurant and out into the lobby where a sheet of glass revealed the night sky and an incoming plane. “This isn't real. This is fantasy land, but damn I hate to leave it.”

“Back to the real world of clients and shit from my family”

“And mopping floors and wishing I could come home to you.”

“Maybe in a while when I get things squared away.” Anders raked his fingers through his hair.

“And you decide to tell your family that you are bringing your boyfriend from England. I'm sure that will fly like a brick.”

“Cinder block is more like it. I'd say that Mike will want to beat me up and my mother will have something nasty to say about my father causing it.”

“What about your other two brothers?” Mitchell asked.

“Axl will probably be okay with it. But Ty will want to freeze my balls off.” The vampire looked askance and he explained. “I used to tell his girlfriends that he was gay. He's the god of cold things, he gets all freezy when he's pissed off”

“Why would you do a thing like that?”

“Because I could. Because I'm a prick.” He picked up a chopstick and drew circles with it on the table. “I couldn't fight anyone, I'm not big enough, so I learned to use my mouth.” He cocked his head with a look of _“Don't you dare say it.”_

“You mean Bragi?” Mitchell had seen the warning and reluctantly passed on the pun.

“No. Way before Bragi. I learned what to say and how to say it to make people just leave me the fuck alone. After a while it became who I was. Anders the prick, that's me. Just ask anyone in Auckland.” 

“But you're fun and funny,” Mitchell protested.

“Well, you're not constantly waiting to take the piss out, now are ya? Not always looking for an opening. I grew up with a bullseye on my ass and so I started throwing my own before they even realized I'd swapped the target.”

“Jaysus, what a fuckin' life.”

“Yeah well, it's the only one I've got, so I have to make the best of it. I made a business work while they are all still flailing around trying to tell their ass from their elbow. None of them know who the fuck they are. They have god powers, but they don't use them even though not using them keeps them down. Fuck, Mike could buy Auckfuckingland if he'd use his powers, but first he was a goddam carpenter and now he owns a shit bar that is always empty.”

“What's his power?” Mitchell was intrigued.

“He's Ullr, the god of games. He can't lose gambling, but since Rob went from being Best Mate Rob to Coma Rob, he won't place a bet.” He gave the vampire a disgusted look and finished his tea.

“Well, if he feels responsible...”

“He didn't do jack, he was on the other side of the pool table. It was one of the assholes that didn't like him winning who started the fight.”

“Don't have much sympathy for him, do you?” The Irishman looked at Anders as if trying to really see him. 

The Norse god straightened his shoulders. “Don't you fucking analyze me, John Mitchell. You're not up t'the job.”

Mitchell smiled wryly. “Yeah, you can be a prick when you're feeling threatened.” He raised his hands palms outward. “I'm not putting a target on ya, babe. I'm just trying to get a handle on the dynamics I'm seeing. They hit you—you hit back. You all keep the ball in play. What would happen if someone took the ball away?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“I know you don't. It's okay. Look, let's get out of here. We can't spend our last night together moping around a hotel. We need some good times to remember.” He stood and extended his hand to Anders.

The god rose and took his hand. “And what did you have in mind.”

Mitchell winked. “I know just the place.”

“You said that last night.”

“Ah but now that I've 'taken out the trash' no one will dare to mess with us. We'll be taking no piss tonight, babe. No piss at all.” 

The vampire practically ran outside and hailed a taxi that was waiting. He helped Anders to get in and then grinned at the driver. “Do you know the Old Shillelagh?”

“Aye, indeed I do. You relax and I'll have you there before you can say Bob's yer uncle.”

“Good man,” Michelle approved. “I knew you looked like a man who appreciates his Guinness.”

“Far too much, me wife tells me, and you lads are in for a time. Best Guinness in London and tonight is the _seisún,_ so you'll be gettin' the best musicians.”

“Brilliant!” Mitchell was practically bouncing in the back of the taxi. “This will be awesome.”

“What's a 'session'?” 

“Everyone who can play or sing shows up and gets in on the fun. The music is the best at the beginning but after a few beers, it's a lot more fun.” Mitchell said with a grin. Anders smiled back, but he looked nervous. He pressed close to Mitchell. After their last time out he needed the reassurance of physical contact. The Irishman squeezed his hand and smiled.

True to his word, the driver pulled up in front of the building having taken the shortest route. “ I envy you gents,” he said as he accepted the fare and the generous tip from Anders. “Have a Guinness for me.”

Anders smiled. “We'll just do that.” He handed him an extra £5. “Have a couple on us.”

He nodded and smiled at them. “You blokes been together long?”

Anders looked shocked, but Mitchell laughed. He knew how savvy London cabbies were. “No, we're still working it out.”

“I hope you do. You two belong together. Complement one another, you do.” He put it in gear and slid easily into traffic leaving them standing on the curb looking at each other. 

The Irishman took Anders' hand and led him into the pub. The music had spilled onto the street but upon opening the door it washed over them, did a dance and pulled them into the interior where it went through their pockets and threw their cares to the wind. By the time they found a table close to the band they were both grinning. Two Guinnesses magically appeared in front of the and they toasted each other and the night.

The band was ever changing, with people sitting in for a tune or two and then wandering back out. At one point a tall young man showed up with full pipes and nearly blew them out of the door with a couple of jigs. Mostly it was guitar, accordion, tin whistle, harp fiddles and the ever present bodhrán. 

Mitchell surprised the Kiwi by being able to play the tin whistle and took them through a series of jigs and reels, some of which were so obscure that the only accompaniment he had was the bodhrán player who could keep up with anyone. For Mitchell's part when they found that Anders had a fine strong tenor and knew a few drinking songs he was pressed into singing alternate choruses of “Whiskey in the Jar” with the vampire and then was persuaded to sing “The Wild Rover” on his own.

With that the two of them were drawn into the middle of the _seisún,_ and there was no looking back. With a Guinness in his hand and a grin on his face Anders launched into “Finnegan's Wake.” By the time he got to the last verse the entire audience had joined in. Mitchell was grinning from ear to ear as he watched his short-tempered little Kiwi grab the audience and hold them without the slightest need for Bragi. They kept him up there until he ran out of Irish songs and finally managed to escape back to their table.

The vampire met him with a hug. “You're awesome!”

Anders was laughing. “This is brilliant. I'm drunk as fuck though. I need to switch to coffee, or Mr. Floppy will be in the house and that won't be brilliant at all.”

“Oh you have intentions, my good man?” The Irishman's face was scrunched into a delighted smile.

“You bet'cher your sweet ass I do. Stop being so fuckin' gorgeous or I will kiss you right here and now.” Anders blinked. “Fuck, I'm bein' sappy.”

“You're being adorable.”

“Been called a lotta things...that's never been one of them,” he said wryly. “But I like it when you say it.”

Mitchell laughed. “Good. Get used to it.”

The coffee woke him up, but later Anders swore that what sobered him up was trying to keep up with Mitchell singing “Rattlin' Bog.” 

“Fastest tongue in town,” the Kiwi had loudly proclaimed to the delight of the band and the audience. It took him a moment to figure out why everyone was laughing and then he blushed deeply, setting off even more laughter.

“Are we that fuckin' obvious?” he asked too close to the mic. 

The big Scotsman with the bodhrán leaned over and put his hand on Anders' shoulder. “Go sit down, mate. Yer makin' t’rest of us jealous.”

Mitchell welcomed him to the table with a hug and the two of them sat giggling like kids. Anders looked over at his handsome Irishman, then reached over to squeeze his hand. “I think maybe we'd better be off...to bed.”

Mitchell's eyebrow raised as he squeezed back. “I rather like the sound of that.”

The two of them rose to go, blushing a little and waving to the band as they took their leave. They stood out front and shared a cigarette as they waited for the cab. 

“I keep trying to quit,” Anders admitted sheepishly as he took the cigarette back.

“I quit every couple of years. I don't like the smell but I'm an addict. I try something once and I'm hooked,” the vampire admitted, exhaling a stream of smoke away from himself and the Kiwi.

“Maybe you should give e-cigarettes a try, I hear you can get them in chocolate flavor,”

“Aw, fucking christ, what are ya trying to do to me?” Mitchell said with a pained look. “Maybe they'll invent one that's chocolate and gives blow jobs—then I'll never have to get out of bed.” 

They were still laughing when the taxi pulled up. The ride to the hotel was a bit longer, so the driver got less of a tip. Anders was feeling generous, but there are limits. Even with the vampire's hand on his leg he kept a tight grip on the realities of finance. Mitchell was doing his best to make Anders forget about everything though. For a while he wasn't sure he could have given his name if he was asked, but the Irishman relented as they got close to the hotel so that they were able to cross the lobby with some show of dignity.

Once safely inside the room Anders rose on his toes and pulled Mitchell to him in a long slow sloppy kiss. The alcohol had burned away leaving him feeling mellow and horny. Very horny. The vampire kissed him back, tongue exploring and tasting, long arms entwining, one sliding down until he could cup one muscular cheek in his hand and pull the blond to him so that their groins pressed together. 

When Mitchell felt that he could no longer breathe, he gently disengaged. “Shower first.”

Anders grinning and took his hand to lead him into the bathroom, frowning as the taller man didn't move.

“One at a time, babe, or tonight will run down the drain along with my plans for you.” His whisper was low and deep, his dark eyes smoky with lust. 

He steered the pouting Kiwi into the bath area and closed the door. When he heard the water start, he brushed his teeth and gargled to eliminate as much smoker's breath as possible. He looked up at the reflection of the wall behind him. Large mirrors like this one were the worst because they always reminded him that he was different. How could he have so little substance as to not even cast a reflection? He heard the shower turn off and turned away from the mirror. What did it matter when he had someone like Anders in his life? That should be affirmation enough for anyone. He waited until the blond emerged, gave him a kiss and then went past him into the shower.

Anders watched the door shut and then turned and saw himself in the mirror. He smiled at himself and his reflection smiled back. “Finally got your shit together, didn't you? Didn't shoot through, stopped and owned up to who you are for fucking once.” 

He ran the brush through his hair and moved toward his chest, then stopped. He didn't have to be someone he wasn't anymore. Mitchell liked his chest hair the way it was with the tiny knots of curl. He set the hairbrush down and picked up the toothpaste. 

When he was satisfied that he looked as good as possible, he dropped some ice into a tumbler, splashed in a liberal amount of vodka and walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. This was going to be a night to remember. 

Mitchell came out of the bathroom wearing a robe. He turned off the light in the hall, leaving the light in the bath area on. It cast an indirect golden light, illuminating the pale god who sat looking at him expectantly. The vampire walked over to the bed and stood between Anders' legs. He looked up at Mitchell and smiled. Reaching up, the Kiwi pulled the end of the tie, freeing the loop. The robe fell open revealing an expanse of furred olive skin, still warm and damp from the shower. Anders leaned forward and kissed the Irishman's belly, the soft hair tickling his lips and nose.

With a shrug and a twist, the bathrobe slid away and dropped to pool on the floor. The god looked at his ribs and thighs but the bruises had faded to pale yellow. He reached out and ran his hand over the one on the vampire's thigh and then looked up questioningly.

“I don't even feel them anymore. I'm good to go.” He smiled warmly and then put his hands on Anders' shoulders and pressed him back on the bed until he was stretched out, a smile of expectation on his face. Sitting next to him, Mitchell dipped his finger into the vodka and traced the god's lips. He bent over and kissed him, the vodka flavoring their lips. Anders flicked his tongue out and lapped up the drops of liquor, then licked along the line of Mitchell's upper lip, dissolving the tease into a hard kiss full of tongues and teeth. The vampire smiled and pulled away, this night was too precious to rush. 

Mitchell dipped his finger in the vodka again and traced a chilly circle around one pink nipple. The delicate bud hardened instantly. He smiled and paused a moment to appreciate the body spread before him; a study in pink and gold. He traced the back of his fingers from the hollow at the base of Anders' throat, down his breastbone and then turning his hand he slid his palm over those unique tight little curls. He stopped to brush against them with the ball of his thumb and then scraped gently with his fingernails, pulling them straight and watching them snap back again.

Bending down, he and took the hard nipple between his lips, tongue flicking and teasing as he teased the sensitive skin, replacing the chill of the vodka with the heat of his lips. His other hand slid across Anders' chest, fingernails tugging at the little knots of hair, loosening them as he went. He kissed his way over to the other nipple and gave it identical treatment. Sucking and licking gently, capturing the nub between his teeth and worrying it until the Kiwi arched up no longer able to lie still.

“Just tell me what you want. I want to make this good for you.”

“It's good,” was the breathy response. “So good.”

He nipped gently at the god's pectoral ridge and then slid his tongue to lap slowly at his nipple again. 

“Just keep on that way,” he whispered. “I don't know what you're doing, but you are making me crazy.”

When Anders was moaning in a steady rhythm, he slid lower, kissing as he went. Oh how he loved nuzzling into those crisp chest curls and down where the hair was straighter and softer. And still further down to the soft puff of dark gold hair between the god's legs. He was semi-erect and filling quickly. A nuzzle took care of that and the blond rose hard and heavy against Mitchell's cheek. There was something so awesome about this miracle of nature that it never failed to give the vampire a thrill. That he could so visibly affect someone was his biggest turn-on.

He knelt on the bed in a dancer's pose with one leg bent close to his body and the other further away to stabilize him and give him free use of his hands. He slid one hand down the outside of Anders' thigh while the other one rubbed and teased small circles on his abdomen, coming closer and closer to his erection. Just when he reached it, he skimmed past, his fingertips trailing over the soft hair and brushing past the beautiful pink cock that rose and fell with every breath that his partner took. His left hand worked its way up the inside of the god's thigh, squeezing and rubbing, getting closer and closer. His right hand gently cupped Anders' scrotum. It was so soft, the delicate testicles rolling slightly under his caress. He bent and blew a breath of air on it, feeling the muscles contract and the skin pucker in response. 

Mitchell pulled the skin on his partner's cock up until his foreskin formed a small cup around the head. Straightening up, he dipped his finger into the vodka and placed a few drops on the tip of the god's cock. Anders made a sound halfway between a scream and a moan. It was cold and he was over-sensitive. Ignoring him, the vampire bent down and licked at the vodka. He was like a cat with cream, lapping, licking, teasing, pushing the blonde to the limit of his ability to tolerate the sweet caress. When he started writhing, Mitchell took pity on him and engulfed his cock in a smooth practiced motion. He fisted the length that wouldn't fit comfortably into his mouth and set a gentle rhythm that had Anders grabbing desperately at the sheet beneath him and starting to sweat. 

He didn't want to finish his partner this way, so he reluctantly lifted off. Mitchell looked back at Anders and smiled. He didn't believe he'd ever seen a more glorious sight. The god was so beautiful lying there, eyes shining sapphire, smiling back with those incredible dimples that always made the brunette want to grab him and kiss him breathless. What was so erotic about dimples? He shrugged mentally. It didn't matter as long as he knew what worked for him and the golden god was everything he'd ever wanted. 

When he bent back down he licked down the length and kept going, lapping at the sensitive pink sac beneath, sucking gently on first one testicle and then the other. He moved gracefully, rearranging himself on the bed so that he had better access. Anders leaned up, a puzzled look on his face. Mitchell winked at him and smiled. Silently, he maneuvered so that his partner's legs were apart. Moving between them, he lifted the god's legs so that his knees were bent and then continued his journey downward.

Anders froze, holding perfectly still. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. He forgot to breathe as Mitchell's tongue worked its way to the underside of his testicles and then continued. He slid his hands under Anders' hips and lifted him, taking a round muscular cheek in each hand. He had amazing strength and gently but firmly pulled him upward until he had access and could complete his quest.

The god's breath caught in his throat and then released as a sob. It had happened only twice in his life and had been pretty amazing. But it had never been like this. This was not something that was done quickly and hesitantly, but was an act that was desired and savored. Mitchell's tongue laved over the delicate skin of his partner's perineum tracing the slight ridge that ran down to his anus. He kissed and then licked alternately as he continued to that hidden sensitive pucker. The scruff of his beard abraded the tender skin, stimulating it and raising the sensation to a higher level. 

Anders physically jerked when Mitchell's tongue made first contact, a long keening moan escaping his lips. He'd had no idea how erotic this act could be. For a moment he was afraid he would finish without even being touched, but he managed to catch and hold on, bringing himself down to teeter maddeningly on the edge as that amazing tongue worked on and on. 

At length his partner pulled back, letting his hips down gently. It was as if the sun had gone out and he was left in darkness.

“Please. Please don't stop.” His voice was harsh, his accent thick and raw.

Mitchell's curls were spilling into his eyes and he flipped them back with a head-toss. His dark eyes drilled into Anders. “Are you sure?”

He reached out and the vampire took his and leaned forward to kiss his fingers. “If at any point you want me to stop...tell me.”

The blonde nodded, squeezing Mitchell's hand. “I trust you.”

The vampire nodded and smiled at him. He instinctively smiled back. No one smiled like Mitchell. It held sunshine and love and joy. 

“I would never hurt you. We are going to take this very slowly.” Mitchell slid his hand down the blond's thigh, squeezing reassuringly. 

“Trust me.”

“I trust you.” Anders whispered as he looked up, pupils blown with lust, dimples framing his perfect smile. Maybe for the first time in his life he did trust someone. He didn't think, he just let himself feel and this felt right and safe.

Mitchell felt his heart leap. He fell in love too quickly and too hard only to be left with his heart in pieces, curled up amid the shards wishing he could die. He needed to be loved so badly that he kept putting his heart in harm’s way hoping each time that it was real and that it would last.

 _I love you_ his eyes said. _Please love me back._

He slid off the bed, opened his bag and set lube and condoms within reach. Anders opened his eyes to find his partner returning to kiss him lightly on the cheek. The god turned his head and reached up to embrace the vampire, pulling him in for a long slow passionate kiss. He appreciated that Mitchell had avoided kissing him on the lips–he appreciated even more the fire of the kiss the brunette returned when the god demanded his lips. Whatever they did with one another it was beautiful and acceptable...and wonderful.

Anders had been living behind a smoke screen all of his life. He felt as if it was finally being blown away and that he was being allowed to be who he really was. He smiled at Mitchell and pulled him in for a hug, burying his face in those long soft curls.

 _I think I love you,_ his heart whispered. _Please love me back._

This time when Mitchell slowly kissed his way down Anders' chest and then his belly they were both giddy with anticipation. Neither knew how far this new exploration was going to go, it was new territory and they would take it one tiny step at a time. When the vampire palmed Anders' flagging erection he got hard so fast that he felt as if he were going to explode. Judging his partner's reaction accurately, Mitchell released him and bent to kiss his knee. Teasing with his tongue he slowly worked his way up the inside of his partner's bent leg. 

“Give me a pillow,” he requested, trying not to burst out laughing at the instant response and the fluff of white that hit him in the face. He lifted Anders easily with one hand, placing the pillow beneath him. Now that he had better access, he used both hands to caress everything within reach, petting and stroking until the god arched up purring like a cat.

“That feels so good,” Anders murmured. He wanted this since the first time he'd met the Irishman and now that it was happening he wanted to see, feel and remember everything. He raised his head to watch Mitchell kissing him and licking, exploring all the secret tender parts that were so exquisitely sensitive. It all felt so right. He laid his head back down on the pillow and relaxed into the sensations.

The vampire nuzzled into the soft public hair letting the smell fill his senses. It was such a relief to have a partner who did not smell like food. For the first time in more than a century he could let himself go and not have to monitor his every thought. He would not have to worry about blood lust, the thought almost made him giddy. 

Anders smelled of expensive soap, but under that was his own natural fragrance, amplified by his arousal. The top note was musk but under that was a softer scent. Some day he wanted to wash the blond with just water so that the only scent would be his own. The thought of that made the vampire even harder, his erection expanding to demand attention. He ignored it. Right now his one and only focus was on the golden glory laid bare before him. 

He licked slowly up the shaft, pausing to lap delicately at the clear fluid that wept in anticipation. It slicked his tongue and he used it to slide under the foreskin just a bit, pushing and teasing areas that rarely received direct stimulation. The sudden jerk and moaning told him that his ministrations were welcomed and he kept on for a few moments more before backing off to slide the shaft down his throat. He stroked the shaft synching it with the movement of his mouth. When Anders started thrusting in rhythm with his suck, he slowly withdrew, licking down the shaft, over sensitive testicles to the perineal ridge that guided his tongue downward to that tender pucker hidden in the shadow.

The scent here was stronger, deeper musk notes with the bite of nervous sweat. He gently spread the god's cheeks and inhaled the fragrance of aroused male. He placed a gentle kiss directly on the center of that sweet pucker, smiling at the resulting quick intake of breath. His next kiss flicked the center with the tip of his tongue and again the quickening of breathing. He delved deeper, pressing against the opening to gain access. He felt the muscles clench and then relax allowing him to stimulate a little more.

Anders lay there alternating between scrunching his eyes closed and opening them as wide as possible so that he could see his beautiful partner. The sensations were amazing—overwhelming and he was having trouble knowing how to react. He was used to being the aggressor and was finding that there was also an art to receiving. He willed himself to relax and just feel.

Mitchell pulled away and reached for the lube. He looked at Anders, winked and squeezed out a translucent caterpillar onto his finger. He applied it slowly and lasciviously to the sensitive ring of tissue. Looking directly at the god, he pressed inward slowly and carefully. Anders tensed and then forced his body to relax and not fight the invasion. The tip went in, paused and retreated. 

He looked at the god and smiled. “That's it, babe. Let it happen. Relax and let me in.” He felt his partner trying to relax and massaged his thigh gently. “There you go. I won't hurt you.” Gradually he felt the muscles give way granting him access. 

His finger slid in again and paused. The quick intake of breath was sharper—not so full of pleasure. Without moving his finger, Mitchell twisted sideways and nuzzled Anders flagging erection. He trailed his tongue along the underside, tugging gently at the skin, willing it to fill and the pleasure to return. 

The god had been surprised by the sting of invasion. For a moment he had thought he has spoiled the evening, but his partner was up to the challenge and in seconds had it under control. As his body responded to the gentle sucking, Anders' fear faded and his muscles relaxed. Slowly Mitchell slid his finger further in, pausing every few seconds before continuing. Press, stop, rotate a little, stop, press...until he was fully engulfed and it started to feel good. 

“How are you doing?” He asked softly.

Anders' cheeky grin was a little lopsided. He raised his thumb. “I'm A-okay. I really am. It feels...full and kinda weird, but not bad.” His sass reappeared. “If you stop I will have to stake you. 

“Oh, you will...” He slid his finger in, turned a little and found the small hard bump of Anders' prostate. He pressed gently and the god nearly levitated from the bed.

“Holy fuck, what was that?!”

“Say hello to your prostate. You two need to get better acquainted.” Mitchell was grinning, his eyes twinkling merrily. 

Anders started to reply, but his words were lost in a groan of pleasure. The vampire rotated his finger as he slid it out a little and then back in feeling the way open even further. Anders murmured softly, sweet meaningless phrases of encouragement and approval. Mitchell never lost his smile. He was going to make this so good for his lover. So very very good.

Anders was not prepared for the level of pleasure he was receiving. Any pretense of dignity was cast to the winds and he unabashedly moaned, his fingers scrabbling against the sheets for purchase. He grabbed at the beautiful man who was driving him crazy and held onto his leg so that he didn't levitate off the bed. He knew he was making noise, but he had no control—all he could do was feel.

Mitchell bent and reclaimed Anders’ cock. He inserted a second finger, sliding it gently in and out as he sucked. He felt the muscles go slack, inviting invasion, welcoming it. When he pulled back his partner pushed against him, reluctant to have him leave, incoherently begging him for more. Please. More.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly.

Anders nodded, “Yes. Please, I think I am.” He was nervous, but he was also incredibly turned on and he trusted his partner. He had nothing to prove here all he had to do was let himself enjoy the moment. 

Mitchell knelt between his knees and slid the condom on. As he lubed it thoroughly he watched his beautiful god laid out before him, trusting and open. It was an amazing feeling, one that never failed to awe him, no matter who he was with. But this was special. First times were special and this one was going to be amazing. No man had ever chosen him to be his first time before. He felt honored and sincerely hoped that he was up to the challenge. No matter what he was feeling his first duty had to be to his partner. He took a breath, controlling his own arousal.

“Remember, I will stop at any time, babe. I want this to be all about you. I don't have to finish this way. Neither do you. There is so much we haven't done yet...”

Anders reached up and caught the hand automatically extended to him. Their fingers intertwined. “I trust you, but I want to make it good for you too.”

The brunette smiled, his dark eyes sparkling in the dim light. “You will. Just by being with me you have made it amazing.”

Watching Mitchell position himself was an incredible turn-on. He had never seen his lover with such an intense look. The silken curls spilled forward to frame his face, eyes dark in the dim light were nearly black with silver highlights of reflection. Gull-wing brows were furrowed shading them further, but at the corners of his mouth a tiny smile was playing tipping the corners up as he moved into place and looked down at his partner. He reached forward and scraped his fingernails lightly over tightly curled belly hair, down to skim across an erection that felt ready to explode, further down to the inside of a thigh trembling with anticipation.

The vampire leaned forward, bracing himself with one arm while placing himself carefully. The head pressed against his opening and Anders took in a deep breath and let it out. This was Mitchell's cue and he pressed forward gently on the exhale pushing just enough to enter and then paused. He waited patiently as his partner took another breath and let it out and then another. When he felt he was ready Anders nodded and tried to relax as his lover slid deeper into him. He leaned forward, his arms on either side of the god's chest, his eyes riveted on his partner, reading him, getting off on him.

It was an odd feeling of fullness—pleasure mixed with a tinge of discomfort. He'd never been adverse to a little pain, emphasis on the word _little._ With the right timing and endorphins it could send his pleasure rocketing to a higher level, but just now he'd prefer only pleasure. He looked up into those dark chocolate eyes knowing that his every expression—his every breath was being monitored. He was being taken care of and found that thought both comforting and erotic. 

“More,” he whispered, lifting his hips a little to assist his partner.

Mitchell slid in a little farther and then rocked very slowly in and out, angling upward so that the corona of his penis brushed against Anders' prostate. The quick intake of breath and the fingers digging almost painfully into his forearms arms told the vampire that he pleasure was outweighing the pain and that his golden god was with him.

He slid deeper, making his strokes longer, and trying to match his pace to Anders' breathing, but as his pleasure deepened, his breathing became ragged and Mitchell felt free to move a little more and to allow himself to enjoy the tight heat that surrounded his cock. He could feel the hard lump of the blond's prostate and angled himself so that he brushed it rather than rammed against it. Steadying himself on one arm he teased and caressed Anders' chest and belly, working his way down to his cock. He worked it in time with his thrusts, driving his partner's pleasure before him. From his position he could watch every expression, hear every moan and muttered curse and endearment. He found it so erotic that he had to bite his lip to keep from finishing first.

Anders was unable to do anything except feel. The discomfort had gone, although he still felt oddly full, he discounted it knowing what was causing the feeling. He was welcoming another man into his body. Later he would consider that at length and what it meant to be that open and trusting of another human being. At the moment he was unable to string two coherent thoughts together. He hoped Mitchell was enjoying this as much as he was, but he was unable to focus on his partner. His pupils were so dilated that he was blind, seeing only bursts of light and fleeting images of Mitchell that flashed across his retinas like snapshots. 

Without warning he was suddenly unable to breathe and his body arched upward, every muscle rigid with pleasure. His cock felt as if it were bursting and he sprayed jet after jet of his pleasure across his chest and Mitchell's. Looping white strands shimmered as they caught the light and then crashed down to glitter against sweat slicked skin. His cry of pleasure caught in his throat and then forced its way out to echo in the room to fade to softer moans and entreaties.

Surrounded by his partner's pleasure, Mitchell thrust once, twice...three times and arched forward staring down at the god's golden beauty as he filled the condom with proof of his passion. He jerked uncontrollably, his movements triggering more aftershocks in Anders who clenched down around him riding out the last possible moment of pleasure.

Mitchell hovered over him holding rock steady for a long moment and then slowly slipping out and away. He quickly removed the condom and disposed of it, then turned back to his partner. Anders' eyes were wide, crystalline silver slowly turning back to blue as his pupils contracted. Strong arms reached up to pull him down and hold him in a tight embrace. He slid his arms around the Kiwi, drawing him closer, feeling the hard muscles of his body slide easily under his skin. 

“Thank you.” The whisper was so soft that only Mitchell's keen hearing caught it. He nuzzled in closer. “You're welcome.”

He kissed Anders tenderly and suddenly found himself in a hard embrace, wound around with strong arms and heaving emotions. There were no words, there didn't need to be. They were just two men holding each other tight amid a gale of emotion. 

When the storm died down, Mitchell kissed his partner tenderly. He ran gentle fingers through crisp curls and then down to scritch playfully at the reddish beard. Anders nuzzled him, reluctant to part for any reason. He'd found a piece of himself that had been missing all his life and was reluctant to let go of it. He nipped and nuzzled at the brunette's neck, loving the softness of the skin there and the tickle of chest hair. He never thought much about body hair except to occasionally become annoyed at his own, but now he was hooked. He slid his hand down over Mitchell's chest to his abdomen and then down the thigh that was circling his hips enjoying the sensation of the hair against his palm. 

“You're my _álainn-due,_ ” Anders whispered, kissing the Irishman's collar bone. “I'm so glad I found you.”

Soft lips nibbled at golden hair. “I'm glad you found me too.”

They began to get sleepy and Mitchell reluctantly pulled away and went into the bathroom. He returned a few moments later with a warm washcloth and a towel. He'd turned off the bathroom light, but the room was not dark, a sliver of light from the moon slipped between the part in the curtains trailing across the bed, illuminating them both. Waving Anders' hands away he sat on the edge of the bed and tenderly sponged the drying semen from his abdomen. The god laid there and watched him, his heart doing funny things that felt awfully like skipping a beat or perhaps it was just that sudden fullness in his chest that made him think that way. 

Anders reached up and combed the dark silk curls back to show the fine line of the Irishman's cheek bone. His olive-ivory skin was pale in the dim light, his scruff shadowing the lower part of his face. He paused, his eyes looking down, the color of bitter chocolate, his expression infinitely tender. He looked like a painting by one of the Old Masters. Perhaps a faun in contemplation, or a Greek god with his love.

With his love...

The god's breath caught in his chest and he had to force an exhale. He didn't need to be thinking this. But there it was and now the thought couldn't be put back into the Pandora's Box of his mind. 

He sat up, taking Mitchell into his arms and they sat like statues just holding each other. There was so much to say and no way to say it. Neither had the words. All they had were the feelings and they clung together for support and comfort and because each knew that, at this moment, they could not bear to be alone. 

When they could bear to part, Anders made room and Mitchell slipped in next to him. The sliver of moonlight spilled across the bed, highlighting the Irishman's arm as it lay protectively over Anders' chest.

 

* * * * * *

The sun had long replaced the moon shining across the bed and when Anders turned to snuggle into Mitchell. It stung his eyes and dragged him into consciousness. He moaned softly and adjusted his position so that he was not being blinded. 

“Good morning and how is my favorite god? Are you sore?” the brunette asked in a teasing voice, sliding his hand appreciatively down Anders' side to his rump. 

“Mmm...I don't know. I don't think so.” He stretched experimentally and then stopped. “I guess I am a little. Feels more weird than sore though.”

He rolled over and smiled up at the vampire. “Thank you.”

Mitchell kissed him gently and then smiled. “You say that as if you were the only one who enjoyed last night. I thought you were pretty amazing, you know.” He nipped the blond on the shoulder and grinned. “I guess a god gets pretty used to being told that though.”

“No, not really...” He almost told the vampire that far too many of his bedmates had some persuasion to convince them to come home with him. It was hard to take compliments from them seriously.

Instead he smiled broadly, dimples amplifying the sass. “I just never had someone like you tell me.” He ran his fingers down Mitchell's chest. “You know...someone all skinny and furry.”

The vampire reached up and grabbed him, dragging him on top, where he sat cowboy style, massaging Mitchell's chest. “I think I'm gonna call you my Fabulous Furball.” He tweaked an unsuspecting nipple. “Do you shed much?”

“Fuck you—and the horse you rode in on. You should talk. You're like Harry the Harry Ape. The maid will probably have to vacuum the sheets.” 

Mitchell pinched his rump. Anders gave a yelp and pitched forward. The brunette caught him easily and drew him into a kiss. “Your furball requires sustenance, or I will wither before your eyes.'

“Shall we go in search of food or have it brought to us?”

“What time is your...plane?”

“Two fucking o'clock pee em and thank you for reminding me.” He glared at the vampire, but his dimples gave him away.

“Then I'd rather spend the last hours here with you, if it's alright.” Mitchell was reaching for him again and it was a struggle to get to the phone, not that he tried very hard. He called and ordered brunch for two and then they headed for the shower.

The vampire took a quick shower, not letting Anders do more than wash his back. “Later, babe,” he'd promised with a kiss. Pouting the Kiwi finished his shower alone. He dried off, slid on the robe and went back into the bedroom area to find Mitchell propped on the bed with the telly on. He'd found an old Cary Grant movie, “Arsenic and Old Lace” and was happily watching poor Mortimer discover that his dear old aunties were murderers. 

Anders was about to join him when their meal arrived. The god brought it over to the bed and they took a moment to enjoy lifting off the silver domes to see what treasures lay beneath. Eggs Benedict for two, bacon that was brown and crispy, two sausages, toast cut into funny little triangles, two big cinnamon muffins. 

''There's enough here to feed an army,” Mitchell said in delight as he reluctantly snapped off the telly. “You're spoiling me. I'm used to eating pizza and take-away. Do you eat like this all the time?”

Anders chuckled. “If I did I wouldn't be able to walk.” He dug into his egg and then munched on a piece of bacon. He held out the remainder of the strip and the vampire took it from him, licking his fingers as he did. 

“If you don't stop that breakfast will get cold.”

“Mmmhuh...” The Irishman leaned over and licked bacon grease from his lips. “And that would be bad because...why?”

“Because I'm starving, egg. I won't have the strength to keep up with you.” He was teasing, but he was eyeing the sausages.

Sighing dramatically, Mitchell leaned back and speared a banger. He held it out and the Kiwi took a bite. They alternated bites with the vampire feeding Anders most of his breakfast. It felt very decadent, it also felt very tender and loving, two things that had always been missing from the god's life. _My álainn-due._ He looked at the vampire who winked cheekiliy at him, dark eyes sparkling with good humor. _How am I ever going to get on that plane?_

If anyone had told him a week ago that he would be sitting in bed naked being fed by another man, he would have laughed himself half to death. Yet here he was and he had to admit that it was one of the most erotic experiences of his life. They didn't have any mousse to play with but Mitchell managed to turn eating sausages into porn. He didn't think he'd ever be able to look at a banger again without blushing. 

Anders finished eating and put the dishes on the cart. He'd gotten a bit chilled and Mitchell felt positively cold. Scooting over in the bed he held out his arms, smiling at the speed with which the Irishman filled them. He pulled the covers up over them and pressed against his partner, entwining their legs and feeling possessive. 

With Mitchell laying in his arms he was taller and bent down to kiss first soft dark curls, then forehead and then that perfect Irish nose. The brunette smiled sweetly at him and offered his lips up for a kiss. When their tongues met they tasted of sausage and passion.

They made love. The kisses were slower, tongues explored and teased lips, ears, neck and them back to lips. They were so close they were sharing breath, each one inhaling the other until they couldn't tell where one's breath began or ended. They were part of one another, no long individual. They flowed and melded and slide along hands and legs moving lazily, touching and stimulating and petting. Neither was highly turned on yet, they kept it at low simmer to prolong the feeling of closeness. 

Anders was surprised when Mitchell rolled out of bed and held out his hand. “Come with me, I want to try something.”

What is it?”

“Something you'll like.” He smiled, warm chocolate eyes twinkling with invitation. 

Mitchell stopped in front of the huge mirror. “I want you to look into the mirror. Only into the mirror. Don't look around. Concentrate on your reflection.” He held up his finger when the god started to ask questions. 

“The mirror. Look into the mirror.”

Anders did as he was told. He stared straight ahead seeing only himself and starting to feel creeped out. Then he felt warm lips on the back of his neck and a soft insistent tongue working its way up to his ear. Soft breath warmed him, softer words whispered of pleasure and what was going to happen. He was hard so fast it was almost painful.

Slowly the robe became untied and fell away to reveal his throbbing erection. First one shoulder and then the other slipped down, pushed by invisible hands, unseen lips following the progress of the neckline. He felt the tug on the fabric, the caress of the lips, the warm moisture of the teasing tongue, but the mirror told him that he was the only being in the room. He closed his eyes for a moment and let himself revel in the sensation then opened them again so that he missed nothing. The kisses trailed down his shoulder and then down his arm before a warm tongue swept up to lap at the crook of his neck. It was so breathtakingly erotic that he couldn't move—he could only watch.

The lips traveled downward over his shoulder blade while inquisitive hands slid around to the front and played with his nipples, tweaking them and pinching them gently. He could feel Mitchell pressed against his back but could see nothing reflected except his own lust.

One hand continued to toy with his nipple, but the other descended, sliding lower and lower until it brushed his erection. He moaned and tried to rub against it but it slid on down to gently cup his testicles. Long fingers gently massaged and lifted, cradling them, then releasing to move up again and take him in hand. He thrust forward, his breath sobbing in his throat. The hand squeezed, stroking him slowly, sliding up to run what had to be a thumb over the tip of his weeping cock, slicking the sensitive head. 

He felt Mitchell's erection from the rear, but no attempt was made to have sex. It just slid up and down his lower back teasing him. Those long slender fingers encircled his cock and slowly moved up and down, stroking him gently, yet firmly. He thrust into the Irishman's hand, needing more.

He could see himself as he never had before and it was amazingly erotic. His neck was flushed, his nipples erect. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, one broke loose and slid down his cheek to be licked away by an invisible tongue. He shivered at the sensation and thrust harder into the unseen fist clenched about his cock watching as the flesh was manipulated and stroked. 

“What do you want?” The whispered words were rich with the music of Ireland making him shiver.

The god was having trouble thinking. He could easily finish here and had flash of an image where he shot hard and long against the mirror, brought off by unseen hands. That was so hot that he nearly undid himself, but he took a breath and suppressed it. 

“I want you. I want to see you.” His words were a moan and he was reaching around to make contact with the warm body pressing against him. “I want to be in you.”

“Are you sure?”

Anders turned so that he could see Mitchell. “I've never been more sure. I don't need kinks with you.”

The vampire grinned. “I _am_ a kink, babe.”

“Then you're the only one I need.” He grabbed Mitchell by the hand and headed for the bed. He paused at the edge and stood tiptoe for a kiss and then dropped to his knees. He looked up at the vampire and for a moment had trouble processing that he was here and this is what was happening and this was what he always wanted to happen. Then he forced his mind to shut off and leaned forward.

Anders took Mitchell deep in his mouth in one swoop. His hand made up for what he couldn't handle and he moved in synch, lightly at first and then harder as the sighs turned to groans. The Irishman lost his footing on one deep stroke and sat down abruptly. The blond followed him down, never missing a beat. 

Mitchell laughed and pulled him again, bending over to kiss his swollen slick lips. “You are the most amazing man I've ever met.”

“God. I'm a god, Mitchell,” he replied deadpan.

“Mmmm and I will have to find a suitable way to worship you. Shall I show you to your altar?” The vampire's voice was smoky deep as he changed position and lay back with his legs spread. 

Anders rose and opened the nightstand drawer. Picking up a condom and lube he knelt on the bed. “Shouldn't you be worshiping me?”

“I was, now it's your turn. I provide the altar, but you have to provide the worship.” His dark eyes were twinkling. “Come, my golden god, and rend me asunder.”

They were both so hot that it took surprisingly little preparation bring them up to the boiling point. Anders was more than ready and chuckled to himself at his eagerness to work his way down Mitchell's body to get to his cock. He would never have believed himself capable of wanting this, let alone doing it, but here he was delivering slow ice cream cone licks to the underside of his lover's erection. And he was going to go lower.

His tongue followed the slight ridge using it as both a guide and a tease. Mitchell was a fabulous furball indeed and he had to pave a way through the brush to reach his destination. He found he liked the feeling of it against his tongue. It was harsh against the silk of the skin, providing a sensory contrast that was a huge turn on. 

When he got close, Mitchell slid a pillow down to him and he helped position it so that his lover's hips were balanced and lifted off the mattress. His legs were splayed and he was totally open—vulnerable and hugely aroused. Anders paused to look and make a memory. It was the one that he'd pull out when the night was long and cold and lonely. 

He leaned forward, trailing kisses down the inside of the Irishman's bent thigh. He heard Mitchell's breath catch as he got closer to his target. It was not difficult to find, darker than the surrounding skin, both golden and rose, it was as unique as its owner and as beautiful. He kissed the soft pucker gently, feeling the muscles quiver. There was a soft sigh and he could feel it relax beneath his lips. He pressed gently with his tongue and gained the slightest access and then a bit more. Smiling to himself, he paid homage to this sweet secret part of his love.

The lube was cool against hot skin and the sensory change made Mitchell shiver. He loved being penetrated slowly and gently by his lover. Inviting someone to actually enter your body felt almost sacred. To have another person actually inside your body was amazing, it was so marvelous to give and receive. 

Anders inserted a gentle finger working his way around slowly, brushing, but not pressing against that fragile sensitive bump at the top of the channel. His partner shuddered with pleasure and raised his hips, inviting further exploration. A second finger followed and more stimulation and more pleasure. Mitchell shivered involuntarily making the god smile. He was enjoying watching this from a ringside seat. He lifted his head to see the vampire's head thrown back, mouth hanging slack, eyes closed as he concentrated on that wonderful feeling of fullness.

The third finger was almost too much. He bore down on it and then lifted up. The direct impact against his prostate nearly sent him over the edge. He changed from whispering “Yes,” over and over to a deeper groan that made the blond pause.

Mitchell bent upward enough so that he could see his partner. His hair was hanging in tangles across his face, tempting ringlets of dark silk that begged to be played with. It killed Anders to see him looking like this, wrecked and starting to fall apart. He was flushed, his dark eyes nearly black with lust. Stretching one hand out he whispered huskily,

“Fuck me!”

He didn't need to be asked twice. Anders expertly slid on the condom, slicked himself up, added another dollop of lube and then positioned himself and paused. He took his cue from his partner. He loved making love in the daylight where he could see every nuance of expression. Mitchell was laying quietly, head turned to one side, eyes closed...just waiting. 

Anders pressed forward slowly giving the muscles time to relax and accept him. When he felt a give he pushed a little harder and the head slid in. There was a sharp intake of breath and he stopped to make sure he should proceed. Everything in him demanded that he ram forward and claim his pleasure, but he steeled himself and waited. There was another breath and then Mitchell turned to look at him, dark eyes shining. A tiny smile danced around his lips.

“You're wonderful,” he whispered. “It feels so good.” He arched his hips up taking more of the god, inviting him inside. 

He needed no second invitation. Sliding fully in he started to move slowly just a little motion with a twist to hit that lovely prostate. Mitchell groaned and pressed down.

“More. I need more.”

“Are you ready for me?” Anders asked, praying he would say yes.

“Fuck me!” was the sharp command accompanied by the vampire's slender body nearly lifting the god from the bed. 

The command went straight to Anders' dick making it throb with need. He shoved forward, grasping the vampire's slender hips and rocking into him hard. Muscles honed at the gym and martial arts training coiled and released, powering him forward, deeper and harder. The only sounds were the slap of skin on skin and their low groans mixed with entreaties whispered in Gaelic. 

The god picked up some of the lube and spread it the length of the vampire's member. He held it firmly and began to stroke in synch with his thrusts. Watching Mitchell was like no porn movie ever made. The Irishman was so beautiful with even features, rosy olive skin and that amazing tangle of dark curls. Even though he had seen those eyes go vampire black, he still thought they were beautiful whether golden with laughter or dark chocolate with lust. The long body was graced with a generous sprinkling of soft dark hair, that enhanced the play of muscle rather than detracting from it. Even while he was buried to the hilt in his lover he still couldn't resist reaching forward to pet that tempting expanse of skin and stop to squeeze the golden pink nipples. Mitchell rose up against him and he pinched a little harder, kneading the tender flesh between careful fingers, taking him up to the edge of pain but not across it.

The Irishman bucked hard and Anders took his leg and lifted him high to allow himself more depth. It changed his position so that every stroke impacted against Mitchell's prostate, nudging it and setting off small depth charges with every thrust. One built on the next until the vampire was in sensory overload. His head twisted back, his eyes blind, fingers scrabbling at the sheets as he bucked his hips asking for more.

Anders gave it to him.

He slammed into his lover, his right hand working that beautiful hard cock while the left held Mitchell's hip, drawing him in, holding him tight against the onslaught he was begging for. He could feel the pleasure start to build until it wound tightly in his lower back then like a burst dam, spilling outward to overwhelm him. Mitchell's orgasm nearly lifted Anders from the bed. Holding on he rammed himself into the Irishman over and over as his partner's lust triggered his own orgasm. He fixed his eyes on Mitchell's face, drinking in the wild beauty of his pleasure. 

When the aftershocks had passed they remained frozen for a moment, overcome with the intensity. It wasn't until Anders' softened and slipped from that warm tight orifice that either of them moved. Mitchell scraped his curls back from his face and grinned. 

“I thought the last time we did this was pretty spectacular, but it just keeps getting better.” He reached up for the god and pulled him down next to him. Anders tried to move his sticky hand out of the way, but Mitchell took it and raised it slowly to his lips, flicking out his tongue to lick the tip of the blond's finger and then drew it slowly and erotically into his mouth. Anders leaned over and kissed him, sliding his tongue down to lick his fingers, allowing their tongues to touch and then join. They kissed, pressing semen-smeared lips together, sharing the bitter saltiness. Neither ever wanting to forget the taste or the smell or the feel of the other.

After the kiss they lay still for awhile recovering and taking comfort in each other's company. Although it killed him to say it, Mitchell noted the time. “We have to get up and get out of here. You have a plane to catch.”

“I don't want to go.”

“I don't want you to go. Maybe you could run a PR company here. Make loads of money and...”

“Still have to deal with my family, only now they'll be pissed off. Well, maybe only my sweet mother, but she is the thing that mother Tasmanian devils tell their children about to scare them.” He sat up and looked at Mitchell. “I'm not joking here.”

“She scares you?”

“Bloody petrifies me, mate. She's somebody you just don't cross. So I have to go back and be the good little Anders for awhile.”

Mitchell stood up and started toward the bathroom. “And then what?”

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don't know. You weren't exactly part of the program.” 

“No, I guess I wasn't.” He continued into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Just before he got in Mitchell looked down at his abdomen. There, in his semen, Anders had drawn a heart. 

Anders rinsed himself off quickly in the sink, dried and went back to get dressed. The sound of the shower hid the tiny sobs that Mitchell couldn't suppress. He stood with his head under the shower letting the water wash his belly clean, but he could still feel the outline of the heart. He's always had to walk away—when he wasn't being driven away. This was why falling in love was a really bad idea, he reminded himself. Now if he could just find a way to make himself remember just how bad it hurt. 

Anders was nearly dressed when he came out. He was wearing an expensive suit, navy blue with a pale blue shirt and a tie that pulled in both colors making his blue eyes shine brighter than ever. 

Mitchell stopped and looked at him in wonder. “My god you're handsome.”

The god looked up and smiled. “Put down the towel,” he said softly. He nodded to Mitchell who had forgotten he had a bath towel draped across his shoulders. He let it slide to the floor and stood here questioningly. 

“I'm making a memory,” was the quiet explanation. “I want to always remember you just like this, naked and beautiful...and mine.”

Mitchell looked at him dark eyes threatening to spill tears. “Am I yours?”

Anders walked up to him and cupped the vampire's cheek gently. “You'd better be because you sure took a big chunk of my heart.” He smiled wryly. “I didn't even know that I had one. You not only found it—you stole it. How am I going to fly all the way back to Auckland without it?” The two of them ended in a tight embrace. One tall naked vampire clutching a shorter well-dressed god.

The cab ride to the terminal was very quiet. They sat on either side of Yggdrasil holding hands and trying not to be emotional. Anders checked in, put his stick in baggage with only a little Bragi-talk smoothing the way. It was interesting to see him do it. He just looked intent and whispered and suddenly the person he was talking to was all smiles and ready to help. Mitchell thought that it would be a very handy talent to have. It would have been fun to watch if it wasn't one step closer to taking Anders away from him.

They both went through security, Mitchell surprising him by having a photo ID that looked reasonably like the vampire. They were in that horribly public area that separated the boarding passengers from those bidding them goodbye. Mitchell looked around and saw several couples holding each other close. At the far right was a family who apparently had to bid goodbye to Grandma and everyone was weeping, even the baby who was far too young to know what was going on. He watched the baby for a moment thinking that it would be wonderful to just be allowed to express what his heart was feeling without society judging him. 

He felt himself tear up anyway and ducked his head to see that Anders' eyes were also swimming. He reached up and brushed the tears away with this thumbs. He could barely look at the Kiwi. Those huge blue eyes were so sad and he didn't have anything to say to make it better. He could hardly invite him to stay in Bristol and share a crowded flat in a gloomy little English town. No. It was better for them both if they parted now and these few days became a sad sweet memory.

Mitchell bent and kissed Anders' lips tenderly, almost reverently. He was used to relationships dying horribly amid recriminations or blood...or both. Never in his whole long life had he just said goodbye and not looked back. This would be a first. They had nothing in common. No future. A past of sex and tears. This was nothing to build a relationship upon. It was a fling. No more than that and no less. 

Anders received the kiss and just barely kept himself from clutching Mitchell and begging him to come along. He could find a way... But even as their lips met he knew that he couldn't. He had a failing business and an insane family. He knew without even thinking about it that if he did anything to ruin Agnetha's plans that she would have Mitchell killed and possibly him as well if she didn't have further use for him. He's bargained cheekily enough with his mother, but he could see in her eyes that that the human was gone and all that remained was the goddess—cold, remote and dangerous. 

Heedless of the others around them, they clung together, the business man and the hospital cleaner. They could not be parted by anything...except the last call for boarding. 

The attendant waited until the last moment before coming over. She didn't have to speak, they knew why she was there and she knew how much pain they were in. It was not her place to judge. She just had to do her job. Seeing the look on their faces made her wish that she worked in arrivals where there were smiles instead of tears.

Neither of them made promises that could not be kept, or said words that were not real.

“I'll miss you,” Mitchell whispered.

“I'll call you,” Anders said. The Irishman nodded sadly and watched him walk away. 

The god went into the passengers only area and slid to a stop. He spun on his heels and walked quickly toward Mitchell. The vampire reached out to him over the barrier and felt his hand firmly taken. Anders pressed something cold into it before turning and accompanying the attendant. Mitchell stared in disbelief at the god's phone resting in his palm. 

He walked over to the bank of windows that looked out over the runway. He easily spotted the Air NZ plane. Too bad it wasn't the cool one with that dragon on the side. Mitchell pressed his face to the window still not believing that he held Anders’ phone. 

It rang.

“Hey egg, I said I'd call...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final part of Blowing Away the Smoke which grew to be into own novella. Thank you for sticking with me as this grew and grew. There is one final story to go. It won't be a smooth ride. Changing your life is never easy and when you involve gods and vampires the seas get a lot choppier. 
> 
> A special thank you to Kelly (Ceallaig) my wife and partner for beta reading all my writing and her wise and helpful suggestions.

**Author's Note:**

> The response the first part of this saga has gotten has been very heartening. Once an idea gets into your head sometimes you feel that you want to write it out, but you are never certain how it will be received. I love these two men and thought that a relationship would take a while and more than a bit of introspection and an honesty that neither are particularly good at. But good things are never easily won and they have to decide that some things are worth fighting for.
> 
> This story is telling itself to me and started getting so long that I broke the story into into two parts, This part has literally turned into a novella. Thanks for bearing with me on this journey.
> 
> If you aren't starting with Part 1 "Smoke and Mirrors" you are missing part of the Two Hearts Beating as One trilogy and not reading all of the story.
> 
> Part 1: [**Smoke and Mirrors**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1034616)


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